Shadows of the Heart
by DPLxStrife
Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood. Rated for mature content. Coverart is in-game footage (DragonbornxSeranaxAstrid)
1. Harbinger

_**A/N: I was kinda drinking while playing Skyrim, and I thought this would be really fun to do; a dark, angsty female Dragonborn and Astrid trying to get her to open up a bit. I'm using my actual character for this, (Nord/vampire, lv. 56), and my interpretation of her character. Dragonborn/Astrid, and I added another power that I'm a little annoyed you can't get (shape-shifting) for both Serana and Dragonborn.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Harbinger***

 _Windhelm_

Alana stood up on top of the Aretino house in Windhelm, her golden eyes hidden beneath her Nightingale hood. Her cape flapped in the wind, and she kept her head lowered as she jumped down to inspect the lock on the front of the wooden door. _'It's a relatively easy lock to pick. Nothing I can't break into nowadays.'_ Her hands moved quickly as she inserted the lockpick, and in a few seconds, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. _'Easy. One thing that I'm thankful for learning how to do.'_

She carefully closed the door behind her, removing her hood and letting her blonde hair free. It was sticky from being cooped inside the hood all day, as her vampire blood cursed the sun more than the most anti-Talos Thalmor did to the hero-god, and Alana lowered her sullen gaze as she slowly walked into the house. _'This kid is being serious about trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood.'_

The blonde vampire could hear the sound of a young boy repeatedly yelling, "Die, Grelod, die," and she let out a scoff of contempt as she stumbled across a boy sitting on the floor. _'I bet it's some supposedly abusive stepmother or older sister.'_ He had assembled a body composed of grotesque parts surrounded by candles, and he slowly whispered, "Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

He turned around to see Alana standing quietly, and his jaw dropped, excitement sparkling in his eyes. "Yes! It worked! The Black Sacrament really worked! The Dark Brotherhood has come at last!" The blonde opened her mouth to tell the kid he was sorely mistaken, but closed it, thinking better. With her Nightingale armor, gloves, and boots, she looked the part of a deadly assassin capable of slaughtering an entire army with ease. It was easy to see how one could think that.

Instead, she placed a hand on the hilt of her Ebony Sword, her vampire blood pumping eagerly at the thought of fresh blood. "…who needs to die?" _'It's been so long since I actually spoke to someone other than Serana. Nearly a month, if memory serves.'_ Her antisocialism was a product of being betrayed by many of her supposed friends, including Delphine. The Blades member had flown into a rage after she refused to murder Paarthurnax, the dragon on top of the Throat of the World and leader of the Greybeards. And that was only the start of numerous betrayals and attempts on her life.

Urag gro-Shub tried to kill her while the blonde was meditating in the central garden of the Arch-Mage's chambers. The priestess of Kynareth, Danica Pure-Spring, attempted to poison her as she sat down at the inn in Whiterun for a drink following a hard day in which she nearly died fighting an Ancient Dragon. Several members of the Thieves Guild also made attempts on her life, including one man she thought she could actually trust, Brynjolf.

Nowadays, with the Guild in ruins and the College of Winterhold currently under control of the Stormcloaks who framed her for murder, Alana practically cut herself off from most of Skyrim, hiding in the wilderness and sticking to the shadows. The only reason she was even in Eastmarch's capital is because she heard rumors from roaming guards about some boy trying to bring the Dark Brotherhood back to murder someone. Otherwise, she would be up in the mountains hunting for deer or fox, and while her blood wanted to feel violent thrills, the blonde was quite tempted to walk away and pretend she didn't hear a damn thing.

"Grelod the Kind, at the Orphanage in Riften," the boy answered. His expression turned to hatred, and he spat at the makeshift body. "I hate her! She's cruel! She abuses us! Please…I don't care how, but kill her! Make her suffer if you want." His eyes started to water, and he wiped them, sniffling and reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out a small amulet. "I know it's not much…but accept this as payment; I'm sure you can fetch a good price for it. And whatever you do, please don't kill the Constance, Michel; she's actually really nice."

Alana quietly took the item, placing it in her pocket and pulling her hood back up. Before she left the Aretino residence, her hand brushed the Amulet of Mara that was hidden inside her Nightingale armor, and her golden eyes started to water. The cruelest betrayal of them all was when her own bride killed their Housecarl and tried to do her in as well whilst asleep; Alana had woken up to find her standing over her with an Ebony Dagger in her hands, and it was only her waking up from a horrible nightmare that probably saved her life. After that, the blonde stopped interacting with the people of Skyrim, and ran away to live her life in the unforgiving tundra. _'Camilla…why? Why did you do it?'_

She stepped back into the windy province, thankful that the last rays of sunlight were finally beginning to sink behind the horizon; her blood wouldn't burn and derive her of most of her vampiric powers with it turning to night. _'The sun's gone down…I remember when Serana and I used to sit on the balcony of Castle Volkihar and watch the sunset.'_

Serana had aided Alana when she found out the blonde went into hiding; she cleared out a cavern for the two of them to live, with the black-haired vampire being exiled for Vingalmo's death shortly afterwards, having discovered the treacherous elf's plot to murder her and seize the throne. Right now, Serana was hunting in a small farming village southwest of Ivarstead, and promised to bring back several cattle for them to feed on and ward off sun damage.

The two friends had hid in a cavern just to the northwest of Falkreath. At the time they discovered it, it was populated by several bandits who made it their hideout. But even still, the women had no trouble quickly and quietly killing them while the idiots rejoiced in some crappy raid. The fur mats weren't the most comfortable things in Tamriel to sleep on, especially compared to the luxurious beds of Castle Volkihar, but it was far better than risk sleeping outside and dying of exposure or an ambush by a Frostbite Spider, Troll, or Ice Wraith. And even though they lacked cozy blankets, they kept a surprising amount of warmth when occupied during daylight.

The young Nord's cape fluttered behind her, a light dusting of snow forming on her shoulders, and she walked up to the carriage driver just outside of Windhelm. She handed him 20 gold coins, pointing to the map the driver carried. "Riften…" _'I hate it. Serana was dragged down to exile because of me. If she didn't get involved…she wouldn't be out here in the tundra with me, reduced to being homeless.'_

"Climb in the back and we'll be off," the carriage driver replied after counting the coins. Alana nodded, and she climbed into the back of the carriage, shivering as an icy wind rolled down from the mountains above Windhelm. Even as a Nord and having vampire blood, she still felt cold in her armor, and she tucked her knees into her chest in an attempt to keep warm. _'What I wouldn't give to feel a lover's embrace right now…it's been too long. Even though Serana does try her best…it's not the same.'_

It was often that the black-haired vampire would have to comfort her during their daytime sleeps, due to the blonde's constant nightmares. And many times, the only way Alana could get any rest was if Serana rubbed her back and brushed her hair. Something about her was comforting, like a mother would be to her daughter.

In the front, the carriage driver attempted to break the ice and make some sort of conversation. "This is great weather for a ride. The winds aren't too strong and the scouts haven't reported any dragon activity. And I'm sort of confused to why anyone would want to go to Riften nowadays; the Jarl herself has put a bounty on a 'Nightingale Agent' who apparently killed everyone in the Thieves Guild and Mjoll the Lioness, and the city's been deserted apart from the Orphanage and the Stormcloaks. Only problem is no one knows what a Nightingale looks like; people think they're just myths. Even so, one can't deny there's a murderer walking in that sinister city's streets."

Alana lowered her eyes as the horse began to trot away from Windhelm, letting her head rest against the side of it. _'They're looking for me…Vex, Delvin and Rune died trying to hold the rest of them off so I could get away. As for Mjoll, she was slaughtered by Brynjolf after he failed to kill me and tried to lure me out.'_ "…" She had made sure that Brynjolf met his end at the hands of Mephala's Ebony Blade, his blood restoring the sword to its full power. The Daedra laughed gleefully as the blonde sank the sword into his chest, and she encouraged her to use it on everyone else who betrayed her to give them a taste of their own medicine; the bitch thrived and got off on meddling with mortal affairs of deceit. _'Why me? What in the name of Oblivion did I do to deserve this fate? Is it because I helped the Daedra? Or became a vampire?'_

Alana had everything after she defeated Alduin; she owned plots of land in The Pale, Falkreath, and Hjaalmarch. She was a commander of the Stormcloak army and one of Ulfric's few Thanes. She saved Serana from being murdered by her own father in his shortsighted lust for endless power. And yet, almost as soon as her rise to glory started, it fell off of a cliff. No one alive apart from Serana knew her whereabouts. _'Where did everything go so wrong?'_

The carriage driver looked back at her, and then shrugged his shoulders as he cracked the reigns again. "Not much of a talker, huh? I've found that those people usually have the more…interesting stories, if they ever do speak. I wish I could remember the name of this Nord girl who came by about a year ago; she was something else. Brilliant sword master; she was responsible for leading the Stormcloaks to victory and killing General Tullius. Looked a lot like you, except not as pale. Her eyes weren't gold either; they were the most beautiful blue I've laid my own eyes upon. Like the color of the sea after a storm. You don't happen to have a twin sister, do you?"

Alana shook her head quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor. _'I'm nowhere near the girl who discovered her ability to speak in the tongue of dragons. She was so bright, full of compassion for her homeland and more than happy to defend those who she cared about. I've become a shadow of my former self.'_ Her Shouts had decreased in power, as did most of her magic; it took a ton of effort just to perform a simple Destruction spell such as Sparks. Her enchanting was nowhere near as powerful as it used to be, either; she kept making mistakes that one with her abilities shouldn't. Her most recent attempt to enchant her Daedric Bow with fire damage ended horribly, with the Arcane Enchanter nearly blowing up in her face.

"I wonder what happened to her; she went off of Skyrim's radar a few months ago," the man shrugged. "Don't understand why, for the girl had it made big time. More gold than one could dream of, skills in combat that would make Talos himself jealous, and beauty to place anyone under her spell."

Alana looked up, her hood falling from her head as she felt a surge of hunger gnaw at her. "When you reach the peak…the only place to go is down." _'It's been days since I last fed. Sometimes, I don't even think it's worth it.'_

"You know…now that I think of it, you sound really similar to her," the driver said slowly. "I recall her wearing the same kind of black armor, too. It can't be…" He took a long look at the blonde, stopping the horse, and he gasped as a flaming arrow struck him in the back. As his body slumped into the ground, Alana leapt to her feet, flipping backwards as another arrow soared over her head.

Her sword was in her hand, and she spotted a small group of Thalmor agents, all three of them holding Elven Bows in their hands. "Burn the vampire!"

They fired their arrows, and Alana spun her sword in her hands, deflecting them. _'I hate them. Even more than I despise the Imperials and werewolves. Altmer don't deserve to live in this world.'_ The arrows soared harmlessly away from her, and the Thalmor looked at each other as she slowly walked towards them, sword in hand. "Damn! She's stronger than she looks!"

Alana's cape flapped in the wind, and she heard a familiar howl from the mountains before a black wolf leapt down, sinking its teeth into the leg of one of the elves. She watched the lone predator tear it off, and she met its golden gaze briefly before spinning to her left. An Elven Sword missed her side by inches, and Alana looked into the hate-filled eyes of the Altmer wielding it. _'What the hell makes you so high and mighty? Who says you can tell others how to live their lives? Nothing but cowards, all of you.'_ Her sword sliced his throat, and the blonde pushed his corpse away.

The wolf continued to tear its prey to pieces, the elf screaming, and Alana threw her sword at the remaining Thalmor, the blade striking her in the back. _'Pitiful excuses of beings. I'll send you all to the depths of Oblivion.'_ The Altmer sank to the ground in a heap, and Alana retrieved her sword, sheathing it and looking at the wolf. "Hi Serana…"

The wolf transformed into the black-haired vampire, and she rested her hand on her hip. "Always some kind of trouble following you, huh?"

Alana sighed, looking down at the snowy ground stained red with Altmer blood. "I tell you all the time to keep your distance…I'm just going to bring you pain and misfortune." _'I was born extremely unlucky, and yet you still stay close near me. Why? It's not just because your blood has incredible luck.'_

"And I care why? Your power doesn't affect me like it does everyone else," Serana reminded. "Besides, your ability to bring misfortune comes in handy when in a battle."

She placed her hands on the blonde's shoulders, and she looked away, unable to meet her friend's gaze. "And I wish I wasn't born with it…" _'Even my ability to shape-shift is bad luck; I don't turn into anything that's supposedly good.'_ Her power to transform into an animal was a gift very rarely seen amongst vampires, even those considered pure-blood. Serana's father, Harkon, was the only other pure-blooded vampire capable of transforming into another creature; in his instance, he turned into a large and powerful monster that was a horse with the upper half a human-like creature stuck where the saddle would be.

"Don't…" Serana gave her a hug, running a hand through Alana's soft hair. "It's not your fault that misfortune follows you like a hungry fox, you know. You didn't exactly ask for everything to happen."

Alana leaned into her embrace, and she closed her eyes, the golden orbs threatening to burst. "I'm sorry…if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be dragged into this mess." _'Some friend I am…I brought down the one person I cared about as much as my own bride.'_

"If it weren't for you, my own father would've killed me," Serana reminded. "I think I owe you my life on two separate occasions. When my father tried to kill us and seize Auriel's Bow, and when we first met. Remember those vampire hunters who wanted to kill me and use the Elder Scroll for their own selfish purposes? If you didn't decide to stumble around in some dark cave in the middle of nowhere, then who knows what would've happened to me." Her hand slid up and down the blonde's back in an effort to comfort her, and she gave a small smile. "Remember what you said to me before we went out to look for that Moth Priest?"

"You started it…"Alana mumbled, taking a deep breath. "You set yourself up for a sex joke that time. 'Turns out you don't learn much about things just by sleeping with them'…"

Serana rolled her eyes, a hint of pink on her pale cheeks. "I suppose it didn't help that I got to know you pretty well in my father's bedroom later on. Real romantic for a rather flustered and rushed one-night stand."

The blonde looked away, feeling slightly guilty about the fact she had an affair. "I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable…"

Serana shook her head, brushing her hair slowly. "Far from it. It was nice to feel wanted for change. Like someone genuinely cared about me. My own parents didn't give a damn. You saw how my mother is. I'd almost have no mother than have her. Right now, I don't consider her family; I don't exactly feel like catching up, either." She let Alana go, pulling her hood down to let her pale skin breathe. "So, where are you going?"

"Riften…" Alana replied quietly. "To kill Grelod the Kind."

The black-haired vampire looked at the dead horse and carriage driver, and she raised an eyebrow. "Well…good luck. I'll meet you inside the city after; I know you'll be okay." She transformed into her wolf form and ran back up the mountains, and Alana sighed as she watched her go. _'There's only one way to get into the city in time.'_

She felt her back quiver, and the blonde closed her eyes as she began to shift into her special shape. _'Some gift misfortune is…'_ Alana turned into her animal, a crow, and she flapped her wings hard, flying south. Usually, she only used her shape-shifting power whenever she was inside a place where people traveled frequently. As a crow, she could hide in plain sight easily, as no one passing by would think twice about seeing a bird of bad luck.

She flew over the tundra, gliding under the cover of night, and when she was well within The Rift, she landed on the ground, panting. The blonde looked up at a tree as another crow landed on it, and as she walked away, she heard a branch fall behind her. _'Luck…please. I have never had it.'_ The crow let out a loud caw, and it flew over to her, landing on her shoulder. Its black feathers were soft to the touch, and Alana petted its back slowly. "Wait for me outside the gate; if anyone shows up, let me know."

The bird took off again, several glossy feathers falling to the ground. Alana felt her Ebony Sword on her waist, and she drew it as she walked towards Riften, her black armor blending in with shadowy forest. Her long torn cape was trailing on the ground, making leaves rustle, and before long she found herself staring at the gate surrounding the city. It was more defended than it had been since she fled it, with guards patrolling every section. _'They stepped up security…I don't want to fight, but I might not have any choice.'_

She slowly strode towards the gate entrance, and a pair of Stormcloak guards drew their Iron Greatswords. "I'm sorry, but you cannot go on past this point. If you insist on trying to get it, we will have to use lethal force." Alana ignored them, and she stepped one foot closer when the guards pointed their swords at her. "Last warning. Leave now. Or your death shall be arranged swiftly."

Alana stopped, spun her sword into a backwards grip, and lashed out. Her sword cut through the light Stormcloak armor like bread, and the man fell in two pieces. The remaining guard yelled a furious battle-cry, only to start gurgling as his chest was split in two. Scarlet blood splashed out, and Alana pushed his corpse aside before entering the city.

Riften used to be quite busy, with the Temple of Mara having gained popularity due to holding the wedding of the Dragonborn. But now, its streets were eerily quiet and desolate, and the only things that could be heard were the trees rustling and the birds singing their sad songs. The only places that showed signs of life were the Jarl's palace and a large wooden building with a sign outside. Upon closer inspection, it read 'Orphanage', and Alana wiped the blood from her sword before quietly pushing the door open.

The place was an absolute wreck inside. Cobwebs infested every corner, and there was dust everywhere. _'I guess keeping clean isn't one of their priorities.'_ She crouched down and started to slowly creep through the orphanage until she saw a small child being abused by an old hag of a woman. The child was sobbing hysterically as he was whipped with a belt, and Alana felt her fury grow as she silently crept behind the old woman. _'This is Grelod, is it?'_

In one clean and lightning fast movement, she slit Grelod's throat, and the old woman fell in a heap of scarlet. The child looked at Alana standing over the body, and he began to cheer happily. "He did it! The Black Sacrament worked! The Brotherhood has killed Grelod!" Alana turned around quietly, spinning her sword back in its holster, and other children began to creep out of their rooms, pointing and laughing at Grelod's rapidly cooling body. "Haha! Aventus did it!"

The blonde pulled her hood up, and as she passed a dusty window, she saw a crow lightly tapping its beak against the glass. _'Serana's here.'_ She opened the window to pet its back, her fingers brushing the feathers. "Thank you…" The bird took off, and she jumped into the shadows of a corner as a young woman carrying a tray with glasses passed by. She held her breath, and the woman didn't even look in her direction.

One of the glasses fell from the tray, and she groaned as the shards danced on the wooden boards. "Ugh…it's only a bit of bad luck. Nothing to worry about."

After she passed, Alana let out a small scoff and left the orphanage behind. She was greeted by a patrol of Stormcloak guards, all of them wielding heavy weapons. "By the order of the Jarl, stop right there! You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people! What say you in your defense?"

As the blonde tried to weigh out her options, she heard an amused sadistic female voice in her ear. _"Do it. Kill them with my blade. You know you want to. I can feel it."_ Alana hissed in anger as she felt a dark and heavy presence on her shoulders, and she glared behind her. _'Go. The hell. Away. I am not dealing with you at the moment.'_

" _Don't try and fight it,"_ Mephala whispered. _"I know all about you, after all. You might try and suppress it, but you have an overwhelming desire for revenge on those who've betrayed you. I can taste it. Use their blood to fuel my blade. Your sorrow and anger are your greatest weapons, my dearest. Running away won't do you any good; we wouldn't want that lovely undead girlfriend of yours to get killed as a result, now do we?"_

Alana growled, and the Stormcloak captain leading the guards strode a few feet closer to her."You better make up your mind before I decide for you. What's it going to be?"

His heavy battleaxe gleamed, and the blonde watched as Mephala's Ebony Blade appeared in her hands. "Don't you dare…" _'You meddling little bitch. You're enjoying this, aren't you?'_

" _Of course I am,"_ Mephala giggled maniacally. _"Watching you give into your killer instincts gives me a thrill like nothing else. It's so tempting to join you in Tamriel and show my physical form to you; I doubt you could keep those lustful hands of yours off me."_ The blonde could feel her tongue lick the back of her neck, sending chills up her spine. _"Just like you couldn't resist Serana, even though you were married."_

"Go. Away." Alana tightened her grip on the Ebony Blade, its length glowing red with the blood of deceit that was used to restore its power.

The Stormcloak captain looked at his soldiers, and he shrugged his shoulders. "It seems you've made up your mind. Very well. Fight well and join our ancestors in Sovngarde." He swung his heavy axe, only for it to clang against the razor sharp sword. A small crack appeared in the axe's handle, and Alana jumped backwards as a pair of soldiers tried to attack her from the side. Their swords missed, and the men gasped as they accidentally impaled each other fatally.

"Do you still desire to fight?" Alana whispered quietly, looking at the stunned captain.

He looked at his men lying dead on the ground, and he turned back to glare at the blonde. "You're that damn Nightingale, aren't you? The bastard who murdered Mjoll in cold blood, and a servant of the Daedra. I cannot allow you to walk away without paying for your crimes!"

"Then your fate is sealed." Alana hated sending her own kinsmen to the afterlife, especially when the idiot could just walk away. And the bitch who constantly stalked her loved it; Mephala probably played with herself every time she watched the blonde kill someone. _'I hate it when she's right. I can't stand the bitch, and yet she knows I can't stop from giving in. For one having the blood of a dragon…I'm such a weakling mentally.'_

The Stormcloak went to swing his axe when Alana heard a loud crack, and she rolled out of the way as part of a house crashed down. The soldier was buried underneath the rubble, having been crushed to death, and the Ebony Blade vanished from her hands as she left the scene behind. _"I told you, my dear. There's no point in trying to fight it; no matter where you go, misfortune is bound to your body. Even if you don't want to fight, you'll still end up with blood on your hands."_

"Shut up!" Alana placed her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out Mephala's amused laughter. "I didn't ask for this to happen…" _'I wish Camilla did kill me. Better to be dead than be forced to live bringing bad luck to everyone I care about.'_

She felt someone touch her shoulder, and she whirled around to see it was Serana, the black-haired vampire looking concerned. "Mephala is still stalking you, isn't she? And I thought Molag Bal was a pain to deal with; the bitch really doesn't know when to give up."

Alana lowered her gaze, and Serana looked over at the scene outside. "You didn't even touch them, did you? Either killed by each other or by…well, bad luck." She noticed Alana flinching, and she put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't. It's not your fault. You didn't ask for it. Bad things sometimes just happen."

Serana gave her cheek a gentle kiss, motioning her head over to the city gates. "Come on; I have some prey waiting, we don't want the entire Riften Brigade coming after us now." The blonde followed her out, and not a minute too soon; most of the soldiers on patrol were already making their way towards the pile of bodies outside. _'…not my fault. It doesn't matter; I still caused it.'_

' _Nothing more than a harbinger.'_

 _ **A/N: Next up, Alana meets Astrid. For some reason, I really like the idea of Mephala stalking Dragonborn and tormenting her. I wanted one of Alana's active magical abilities to be misfortune because it makes things more interesting; having good luck all the time is pretty boring. It might be a love triangle, might not be. All depends.**_


	2. Broken Mirror

_**A/N: Chapter 2 of my Skyrim story, and I'm liking it a lot. I don't get how I'm gonna do a love triangle, since in my experience three-way relationships never work out, but…**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Broken Mirror***

Astrid raised an eyebrow as Nazir handed her the report from Riften. "Here, Astrid. I have the full report from Riften hold. Thought you might like to read it yourself; it's rather interesting, if you ask me." The Redguard had a look of bewilderment upon his face, and a hint of an emotion Astrid had never seen in his dark eyes. It was fear, and the fact that Nazir was scared of something intrigued her deeply.

"Thank you, Nazir. You may go." The blonde waved her hand in dismissal, and as Nazir left, she opened up the roll of parchment. "Hmm…a Nightingale? Believed to be a female vampire. No full physical description. Interesting, indeed." _'I've heard rumors about a Nightingale Dunmer residing outside of Riften, but nothing about a vampire. I need to do a little investigating on this one. Girl would really make a very good addition to the Family; not many people can walk right into a heavily guarded city like Riften, kill a hag in her own orphanage, and then leave unscathed.'_ Astrid rolled the parchment back up, and she walked towards her werewolf husband, Arnbjorn. "Arnbjorn, you're in charge while I go out; I have some investigating to do."

Arnbjorn looked up from his workbench, and he nodded gruffly. "Sure. Good luck." The Nordic woman could see the yellow starting to return in his eyes, and she knew a transformation was close. _'Hmph. If the rumor about the woman being a vampire is true, then Arnbjorn might be pretty mad; vampires and werewolves have never gotten along.'_ She had noticed a bit of a falling out between her and her husband, ever since the report of Grelod the Kind being butchered in her own orphanage reached their ears in Falkreath. He was angrier than usual, which was saying something; the werewolf was almost always short-tempered.

Astrid walked out of the Sanctuary, the Blade of Woe on her belt, and she strutted towards the shadowy pool outside. "Shadowmere, come." The legendary horse of the Dark Brotherhood appeared, his glowing red eyes blinking, and he let out a neigh as he reared up on his hind legs in approval upon seeing his mistress. Astrid raised her hand to pet his black mane affectionately before climbing up into the saddle, tapping his hindquarters. "We're heading to the Rift. I hope you're up for a long trek." _'It'll take us a few hours. Not to mention Riften is on high alert after the attack. It's pretty remarkable that no one has found that woman; she practically doesn't exist.'_

Shadowmere set off on a steady trot, and Astrid watched as a crow landed on a tree branch, its golden eyes staring at her intensely. Shadowmere stirred, and he let out a snort at the black bird. His hooves dug into the ground, and he neighed before rearing up, nearly throwing the Nord off his back. "Easy boy! What's wrong!?" _'He doesn't act like this unless someone else is close to him! Why would a crow make him aggressive?'_

The crow cawed softly, and it flew away in a flurry of black feathers. Once it was gone, Astrid looked down at her steed. "What's wrong with you? Why would some dusty old crow make you throw a fit?" _'Surely that crow wasn't a shape-shifter? But no one has that power. Besides, who would want to turn into a bad luck bird?'_

The blonde tapped Shadowmere's flanks, and the horse shook his head before setting off again, this time at a quicker pace. _'Wonder why he did that. Normally, Shadowmere is always calm around other animals, even if he's not like them.'_ "Come on; I want to reach our overnight halt in Ivarstead before it gets too late. The Brotherhood's luck will finally turn around." _'It's not like the Nightingale I'm looking for is going to run off anywhere; she loves her little hideout just outside Riften.'_

The stories she knew about the Nightingales were shrouded in mystery; they were supposedly guardians of the Daedric mistress Nocturnal, and only the highest ranked members of the Thieves Guild were aware of them. But the Guild was now in ruins thanks to a violent uprising within its own ranks that left everyone dead and all the treasure missing. _'Even I was shocked to find out the Guild was destroyed. The Ragged Flagon was as busy as the Imperial City a few months ago.'_

The first town after leaving Falkreath, Helgen, was recently repaired following the dragon attack. It had better defenses and more of the higher skilled Stormcloak soldiers patrolling its streets, making an ideal place to live again. But when Astrid reached the town, her jaw dropped in horror at the sight in front of her. "By Sithis…what the hell happened!?"

The town was completely destroyed, and dozens of burnt corpses littered the streets. The remaining buildings were alight with flames, and the blonde dismounted her horse to approach a wounded Stormcloak soldier leaning against the remains of a house. Blood was leaking from a nasty gash in his side, and he coughed up a mouthful of scarlet. His sword was shattered, the blade in pieces, and his shield was nothing more than a thousand splinters of wood.

"What happened? Who killed all of these people?" Astrid demanded, her dagger drawn.

The soldier stopped coughing, and he managed to gasp out a reply. "Vampires…a whole band of them. And as if it could sense the panic and smell fresh prey…"

He coughed again, pointing towards a large tail buried underneath a pile of rubble, and Astrid knew what he meant. "A dragon…" _'By Sithis...a pack of vampires did this? There's not a single soul left alive.'_

The soldier nodded, and he let his head sink down, his last breath leaving his body. Astrid stood up, and she climbed onto Shadowmere's back, snapping the reins. "Come on; we should keep moving before another dragon comes along." _'Unbelievable. And Helgen was one of the better defended towns, too. Damned undead bastards.'_ A murder of crows was circling overhead, cawing excitedly at the smell of dead flesh, and they swooped down to feast eagerly upon the dead.

"So much for hoping for a smooth ride…" she muttered as her horse took off again, this time in a full gallop. Thanks to his immortality, he had incredible stamina; he could run across an entire hold without needing a break, unlike lesser horses. Shadowmere let out a snort as a bear roared from the mountains above, and Astrid leaned down to stroke his mane. "Carry on. We'll deal with it later; we don't exactly have the time to dance with one." _'I surely hope Ivarstead is still standing. But after what just happened to Helgen…'_

The small town began to appear in the distance, and to the blonde's relief, it was still in one piece from the look of things. Being directly underneath the old citadel of High Hrothgar, it was frequent for the sound of thunder to echo from the mountain, even if no rain clouds were in sight. Astrid dismounted Shadowmere again, letting him pace outside, and she walked into the inn, passing a drunken old man who looked at her slender frame with hazy eyes. "Well, hello gorgeous."

The blonde ignored him, and she strode over to the innkeeper, a tall redheaded Nordic man. He placed a flagon of ale down, looking at the leader of the Dark Brotherhood curiously. "Um…you aren't here for just a drink, aren't you?"

Astrid shook her head, and she took a seat, folding her hands. "No. I'm looking for information. Being an innkeeper, you're a good bet. Do you know anything about a vampiric Nightingale?" _'This is the closest town to Riften. If she decided to stick around the Rift, then he'll know.'_

"Not much, I'm afraid," the man admitted, turning to polish a beautifully crafted mirror that rested behind the counter. "Last I heard about her, she had slaughtered that old hag Grelod in broad daylight. After that, she just vanished. It's as if she doesn't exist. Whoever she is, she is damn good at covering her tracks; not even the best spies in the Stormcloak army can find her, and half of Skyrim is on high alert."

Astrid heard a small tapping noise from the window, and she turned to see a crow with brilliant golden eyes like the one in Falkreath outside. "What the hell?" _'Isn't that the same crow I saw when Shadowmere and I left the Sanctuary? What's it doing here?'_ The crow tilted its head, and it cawed, hopping towards a nearby tree. _'Once is a coincidence. Twice, and someone's trying to say something.'_

She heard the shattering of glass, and she whirled around to see the innkeeper had broken the mirror that was behind him. He let out a groan as he crouched down to collect the shards, the edges cutting into his hands and drawing blood. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Talk about having bad luck, huh? I'm going to be unlucky for years to come now; breaking a mirror is almost as bad as seeing a black cat."

Astrid pushed away from the bar, and she saw a black-haired woman enter. She had an unusual set of armor on, with a short cape at the back, and her eyes were golden like a vampire's. _'Surely it's not her? But she doesn't look like a Nightingale; they wore some kind of armor that was known as forged midnight.'_ The blonde leader strode towards her, snapping her fingers to order a glass of whiskey. "Excuse me. I'm hoping you can help me…find someone."

The vampire took a sip of her own drink, a bottle of mead, and she gave her a look through exhausted eyes. "I'm not interested. Besides, isn't information more in line with your kind of work?"

Astrid let the remark pass, and she traced her finger around the rim of her glass several times. "I'm looking for the Nightingale responsible for the death of Grelod the Kind."

The vampire stopped dead, and her eyes started to burn with venom as her fangs extended. "What do you want with her?"

Her hand was resting on an Elven Dagger, and Astrid smirked at the fiery reaction. "Oh, nothing bad. I'm quite impressed with her feat. But you see…the Aventus boy was trying to contact me and my associates. So she owes me a kill." _'These cursed rules are getting a little annoying. We're assassins, not some naughty schoolchildren.'_

The woman scoffed, motioning towards the window. "She's been aware of someone looking for her for awhile." She downed her mead, placing the bottle down, and wiped her chin. "I'm sure you've seen her, and thought nothing of what just happened with the innkeeper's mirror. Just a bit of bad luck, eh?"

Astrid turned around to see the crow grooming its glossy black feathers, and the blonde watched it peck the glass three times with its beak before flying off towards Falkreath. _'No way. This vampire has to be pulling my leg here. There's no way that the Nightingale who everyone is looking for is some dusty crow.'_

The vampire stood up, stretched her arms, and threw the barmaid a few septims. "I'll be on my way. If you really want to try and induct her into your family…well, you'll know your answer in a day or so. I'm not speaking for her." She walked out, and Astrid quickly downed her whiskey in an attempt to possibly shadow her. _'They probably reside somewhere in Falkreath, but nowhere with people nearby. It's clever; no one would think to look in the mountains overlooking the city itself, as that's only home to bandits.'_

The leader of the Dark Brotherhood left the inn, only to see the vampire had vanished. "What the hell? Where did she go?" _'Not a trace of anything. But how could she just disappear so quickly? I only left thirty seconds after her.'_ She could spot a lone black wolf stalking a drunken beggar, and Shadowmere's red eyes glared in the predator's direction as it sank its fangs into the man's leg, dragging him down before he could even recognize he was attacked. He went to yell out when it bit again, silencing him, and the wolf started to drag the body away with a certain swagger in its step. _'Well, I'll be going to Nightingale Hall outside of Riften for more information tomorrow. I might as well get some sleep.'_

' _And what the hell is up with Shadowmere? He really keeps acting strange.'_

* * *

Alana landed with a pant outside the cavern her and Serana made their home in, sweat pouring down her face. It had been awhile since she flew that hard, and her back was sore from the effort of tracking the blonde woman from Falkreath to Ivarstead and flying back. _'So, I have the Dark Brotherhood looking for me as well. Even a person who doesn't exist is on their wanted list.'_

" _Aw, what's the matter? You can't handle having some beautiful assassin following you?"_ Mephala smirked. _"You're a damn fine killer, if you ask me. Why not get paid for it? It's not like you're good at anything other than taking the lives of others."_ Alana's hands balled into fists, and she let out a slow hiss. "Shut. Up." _'Just go away and leave me the hell alone!'_

" _Accept your fate, dearest. You're the broken mirror that terrorizes Skyrim,"_ Mephala laughed. _"You might as well use your little bad luck charms to bring in the gold. The Brotherhood would love to have you within their ranks. Just think about it; the girl who brings misfortune to others helps the Dark Brotherhood rise up in Tamriel once again. It's almost storybook."_ The constant tormenting was starting to drive the blonde vampire insane, and she could feel her back starting to quiver as her anger at the Daedra made her want to change into her Vampire Lord form. She was a very powerful one, having a variety of abilities lesser vampires could only dream about, but she hated the transformations; they caused a massive amount of pain, and sometimes, it was easier to deal with the damn dragons without turning into a gargoyle-like monster. _'No. Calm down…don't think about the sweet taste of blood as it flows over your tongue.'_

Alana was about to swing her sword at the presence behind her when Serana entered, dragging the limp and barely alive body of a drunken man from Ivarstead. Judging by the smell, the man had drank over a gallon's worth of whiskey in the span of an hour. The black wolf seemed quite pleased with her catch, and Alana felt her razor sharp fangs grow at the sight of the soft tender skin of the man's throat. _'When was my last proper feed? I can't remember.'_ Having undergone the incredibly painful ritual for Lord Molag Bal to become a Daughter of Coldharbour after killing Serana's father, her blood was as pure as Serana's, despite having been given Harkon's.

Serana dropped the body in front of her before reverting her form, and she let out a sigh as the sun finished dropping behind the horizon. "Well…the leader of the Dark Brotherhood wants to have a chat. Said something about you owing her a kill."

Alana crouched down to drink, and her golden eyes began to shine as the rich flavor flowed over her tongue. It was sweet, tainted by the liquor the cattle had consumed, and she removed her lips from his throat. "…why?"

"Because Grelod the Kind was a Dark Brotherhood contract, and you stole their kill from them," Serana replied. "It's a debt you have to repay, otherwise they'll hunt us down. And I should warn you; they are the deadliest assassins in Tamriel. She's still in Ivarstead, if you care to discuss it."

Alana walked to her dresser, pulling out a set of new clothes, and started to disrobe herself. "…I'm not proud of what I do. Most times, I don't even need to draw my sword." _'My bad luck does most of the work.'_ She found out about her ability to bring misfortune during the Battle for Solitude, when the ceiling of the Castle Dour collapsed and nearly crushed Ulfric Stormcloak as he killed Legate Rikke. If it weren't for Alana pushing him out of the way, he could've possibly died.

Her new clothing wasn't remotely close to armor; it was a dark red button-up jacket with coattails, her torn Nightingale cape, glossy black leggings, and thigh boots. She put her Amulet of Talos around her neck, making sure her cape was properly tied, and picked up her Ebony sword Its blade gleamed like a sliver of midnight, and it seemed almost eager to meet the blood of any opponent. With her crafting skill, it was possibly the deadliest sword in her arsenal, having a fire enchantment from her time in the Stormcloak army on top of it being a legendary cut.

The blonde placed her sword in a sheath across her lower back, and she looked at Serana as the vampire started to feed on their catch. "How does this look?" _'Not even close to armor. But with the weight of this sword, anything other than clothing would be too much to carry. Not that I care about getting hit…'_

"Pretty damn good," Serana replied, wiping a drop of blood from her lips. "I take it you saw what happened to Helgen. Did anything strike out as out of the ordinary to you?"

Alana nodded, pulling the twisted dagger she found in Helgen out from her Nightingale armor, soaked with blood of her fellow Nords who were sent to guard the town. "This. It's a Blade of Sacrifice. There's only one cult who uses these." _'Boethiah. It's her declaring war on Nocturnal. But the Twilight Sepulcher was destroyed by Brynjolf after he tried to kill me. I've failed in my duty as a Nightingale.'_

"It can't be…that cult was wiped out a month ago by order of High King Ulfric," Serana whispered. "Boethiah's serious this time."

She took the twisted dagger from the blonde's hands, and as she observed its length, Alana let out a depressed sigh, leaning against the rocky wall of their cavern. "Serana…I wanted to ask you something. Why do you stand with me? You know that I cause misfortune wherever I go, and yet you stay by my side. Why? And please…be honest."

"The honest reason? Well…it's because I don't care about it," Serana admitted. "The only person to ever show they cared about me in who knows how many hundred years is you. I followed you into the Soul Cairn itself. There's no one else I would rather have by my side in that forsaken place. And…I love you."

Alana's eyes watered, and she let her head sink. "How can you say that? After the things I've done? How can you still stand to even look at me?"

Her shoulders shook, and Serana walked over to her, wrapping her arms around her in a tight embrace. "Your past doesn't define who you are. It just gives you the starting point for who you're going to be."

She gave the blonde a kiss on the cheek, and ran a hand through her hair. "You know…we should both join the Brotherhood. We'd be safer there; no one can enter their Sanctuary without the correct passphrase."

Alana wiped her eyes, and she took a breath to calm herself down. "You really think we'd be better off that way?"

"Yes. If anyone tried anything, they'd be slaughtered instantly; the Brotherhood doesn't exactly take kindly to traitors within their ranks," Serana pointed out.

Alana sighed, and she broke apart from the embrace to start heading outside. "If you think this is our best chance…then I'll consider it; I can't stand forcing you to hide in the shadows." _' I'd rather be dead than force her to live like this.'_

She walked towards the entrance of their cavern, looking back at the one person who still cared for her. "Serana…thank you. I'll do what I can to get us both in." _'That's my only request. I want her to get somewhere safe, where she doesn't have to worry about finding food or whether the Stormcloaks are waiting to ambush her.'_

' _And I love her, too.'_

* * *

 _Nightingale Hall_

Astrid looked at the unusual black marking on the stone, and she dismounted Shadowmere, her muffled boots not making a sound as she landed on the ground. _'Finally. It took a while to get here; I hope that Dunmer is still inside.'_ Typically, no one apart from the Nightingales was allowed within the hall, but being the leader of a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary had its perks.

She approached the hidden door, only to stop as she heard a slight rustling behind her. It sounded a lot like a cape dragging against the leaves, and the blonde whirled around, drawing her dagger. Once she saw who the person approaching was, though, she slid her weapon into its sheath and folded her arms across her chest. "So…it's about time we met. You must be the Nightingale I've heard so much about."

The woman was a blonde Nord like her, but she wasn't wearing quite what Astrid expected. Instead of the forged midnight armor that the Nightingales typically wore, she had adorned a dark red coattail jacket and glossy black leggings with boots that reached her thighs. Her long cape had tears in it, and an Amulet of Talos was worn around her pale neck. Her weapon was a beautifully crafted Ebony sword, and Astrid found herself looking into the woman's golden eyes. _'Hmm…she's quite the looker, even for a vampire.'_

The blonde vampire didn't answer immediately, keeping her silence, and Astrid raised an eyebrow at her seemingly quiet nature. "I take your lack of denial as a yes. You do exist after all, which is far more than can be said for that old hag Grelod. Don't take that as a complaint; it was a damn good kill, and you saved a bunch of urchins to boot. But there is a slight problem, which I'm sure you're aware of." _'The way she carries herself…hmm, she looks as though she could rival even dear old Lucien Lachance in battle. That kind of skill hasn't been seen in the Brotherhood for years.'_

"…who do you want me to kill?" the vampire whispered, hints of pain in her soft tone. The sorrow in her golden gaze suggested that death was something that was delivered by her hand far too often, and she was borderline reluctant to do the deed. She let out a soft hiss, her sharp fangs extending as she glanced over her shoulder, and Astrid was aware of a heavy, almost malignant presence in their midst. _'Something doesn't seem right.'_

But, as quickly as it appeared, the presence vanished, and the leader of the Dark Brotherhood leaned against the stony entrance to Nightingale Hall. "Well…funny you should ask. I have a contract that my associates and I haven't had the time to complete. A certain woman by the name of Carlotta Valentina has performed the Black Sacrament and wants the Brotherhood to kill a certain snobbish bastard by the name of Nazeem in Whiterun. You kill him, and your debt to me is satisfied. In fact, I want to observe and admire." _'_

"…very well," the vampire replied quietly. She glanced at Shadowmere, the horse snorting, and drew her sword, the blade shining brightly in the night. "I'll meet you in Whiterun." To Astrid's surprise, the blonde woman transformed into a crow and flew away, leaving only a pair of shiny feathers on the ground. _'She's a shapeshifter? So it was her in Falkreath. It's perfect; no one would think twice about seeing a dusty bird.'_

"Come on Shadowmere. We have a very interesting potential candidate for our Family."

 _ **A/N: Next up, Alana joins the Brotherhood for good by making her kill. Next chapter will contain some action between Alana and Serana, so expect some good shit lol. Till then!**_


	3. Tragedies That Follow

_**A/N: Chapter 3 of my first Skyrim story is here, and as promised, some good shit between Serana and Dragonborn, but not until she kills Nazeem in Whiterun. Just got my main character up to lv. 80 thanks to making a bunch of perk trees legendary, and I have to say, it is pretty brutal using legendary-cut enchanted Daedric Daggers on the Morag Tong (they try and attack me every time I visit Solstheim). I found a cheap way to make yourself OP in Skyrim, too. Just abuse the Muffle spell for Illusion, and keep making it legendary.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Tragedies that Follow***

Alana landed on the roof of the stall of Carlotta Valentina in Whiterun, her wings sore. It was still very early in the morning, and that meant several things for the blonde. One, her blood wouldn't burn thanks to the cursed sun, no one would be up and about apart from a small patrol of guards, and the cover of night would help her make her kill that much easier. Her ability to sneak in and out of houses with ease made her a better infiltrator than even Vex, and made her a fortune. _'So, Carlotta wants Nazeem dead. And I have to be the one to spill even more blood.'_

She knew all about Nazeem, having used to be one of the Thanes of Whiterun. He was a Redguard, and a proper prat; his own wife barely wanted anything to do with him thanks to his high and mighty attitude. He always walked with his nose in the air, sniffing distastefully around the stalls; if he were any more arrogant, he would be an Altmer. _'I know I didn't get along with him all that well, either.'_

" _Then why not kill him with my blade?"_ Mephala whispered in delight. _"His body will lie lifeless before you as his blood drips down from my sword. Oh…how exciting this is. I simply love it."_

Alana growled as she transformed, leaping down onto the stone ground. "Shut up!" _'Stop stalking me. Leave me alone!'_ Her heeled boots clicked on the stony steps as she walked through Whiterun, and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was aware that the leader of the Dark Brotherhood would be watching her make her kill, but she hoped she would do it from a distance; Alana's bad luck would most likely cause some sort of problem for anyone within range. _'I bet I don't even have to draw my sword.'_

The vampire slowly drew her blade, using her free hand to try and cast a Muffle spell to make her move quietly; as both a Nightingale and a vampire, her Illusion spells used to be incredibly powerful. Now, it took much more effort than usual, and she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. _'Too much effort. I can barely cast an Ice Spike spell these days.'_

She knew that Nazeem liked to roam around at nighttime, mainly to give rude hand gestures towards the homeless people of the city and drink Alto Wine in the center plaza, and as she crept down to start sneaking her way through the city's shadows, she spotted him sitting under the Gildergreen Tree. He was wearing his best clothes, with a bottle of wine in his hand, and as Alana crept towards him, her golden gaze flickered to one of the tree's branches cracking right above the oblivious Redguard. _'I was right. It's going to fall on him.'_

The tree's branch snapped, and Nazeem barely had time to look up before he was crushed under the heavy wood. Alana lowered her gaze with a wince, knowing it had happened because she was there. _'Didn't even have to plunge my sword into his chest.'_ The blonde went to walk away when she saw the man's hand still twitching, suggesting he was possibly still barely alive, and his neck was exposed. _'Better to be safe than sorry.'_ She slit across his throat, her razor sharp sword easily cutting through the tender flesh. Blood splashed out eagerly, and Nazeem's body convulsed as his life was quickly extinguished.

"No mercy, I like it," a dangerously seductive voice laughed. The blonde turned around to see the leader of the Dark Brotherhood standing about ten feet behind her, and the woman had an amused smirk on her face. "Now, in the interest of fairness…he didn't have a bounty on him at all. Carlotta never performed the Sacrament. It was just a test. I gave the order, and you killed. Names, innocent, guilty are irrelevant."

Alana didn't answer immediately, and the blonde woman leaned casually against the Gildergreen, her eyes raking her frame. "Your debt to me is satisfied, and you're free to leave without fear of the Dark Brotherhood hunting you down. But, why stop here? I would like for us to…take our relationship to the next level. I extend an invitation to our Family. In the Pine Forest, you will find our Sanctuary. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct phrase: Silence, my Brother."

"I have something to ask," Alana whispered quietly.

The leader of the Dark Brotherhood laughed, her arms folded across her chest, and she started to saunter over to her, her slender frame swaying. "Of course you do. Very few people join the Brotherhood and know everything right of the bat. What is it you want to know?"

"…I want to…have another person be able to join," Alana answered softly. _'If Serana can get in and I can't, then so be it. I can't stand seeing her reduced to this. She deserves far better than hiding out in some rubbish cave in the middle of Skyrim.'_ A quick look at the sky told her it was beginning to approach daylight, and she hissed in pain as her blood began to boil beneath her skin. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, considering she had recently fed, but nothing can prepare one for the agony of being a vampire in sunlight. Not even the horrific ritual of Molag Bal's was as painful as standing for more than five minutes in direct sunlight. _'It's already 5 in the morning?'_

" _Aww, is someone in pain?"_ Mephala smirked in delight, practically clapping her hands. _"I thought you were one dirty little masochist, if your little affair with Serana suggested anything~."_ Alana tried to block her voice out, her pale hands tightening into fists, and she let out a menacing hiss. _'Shut. The hell. Up.'_ Her Vampiric Drain spell cloaked her hand, and even though it wouldn't amount to much, the blonde was more than tempted to try and hit the Daedric Mistress with it. _'Go away. Stalk someone else for a change.'_

"Let me guess. It's that vampire who convinced you to come out here," Astrid muttered. She gave the vampire a slightly curious look, easing her stance. "I have to ask; why? Why should I allow you to bring another person into our Family?"

"…I'd do anything for the only person to stay by me, despite what I am," Alana answered, her golden gaze meeting Astrid's blue. "No matter what the cost." _'I really mean that. I'd do anything for Serana. We love each other, but it came out of clinging to each other for survival. Our bond is stronger than either of us anticipated because of it.'_ It had been hard for her to keep her feelings suppressed at first, but it didn't take long for Alana to realize that Serana meant just as much to her as her own wife, perhaps even more considering the situations they endured together. They walked a plane of Oblivion, stopped Harkon's plans, defeated the Dawnguard, and even gave the Thalmor a serious black eye by burning Northwatch Keep to ash.

"Very well. I'll see you both at home." Astrid vanished the minute she stepped into the shadows, and Alana let her head sink in shame. _'Utterly pathetic. I practically begged. I can't believe I became such a weakling.'_ Her golden gaze looked into the sun, and she heard the footsteps of a Stormcloak soldier as he began to make his morning patrol. _'Time to go. Otherwise they'll throw me in the prisons for the rest of my days.'_

The blonde hated that she was practically wanted in every single city, and had to either sneak around at night or hide as crow in plain sight despite that she helped the Stormcloaks win the war. _'Their pride is their biggest failure. It's one thing to love the thrill of battle, and another to just charge in blindly like a complete idiot.'_ She heard a loud cry from above, and she looked up to see an Ancient Dragon circling in the sky above. _'Bastard. You know. You know that I'm trying to get out of here before the guards try and kill me.'_

It had been several weeks since her last battle with a dragon, and even longer since she was able to use her Dragonrend Shout. And though it was probably going to burn down the entire city without her help, Alana really didn't feel like teaching the overgrown lizard a lesson and devouring its soul. Besides, dragons were usually rather smart; it wouldn't want to deal with prey that can make it face mortality by uttering three words. _'I don't have time for this nonsense. It's either I run and let Whiterun burn, or allow myself to get killed by both a dragon and the guards. I really hate this.'_

" _My blade…is thirsty for blood. Kill them; kill them and watch as the infinite dark blanket of death falls on their still warm corpse."_ Mephala's sword appeared in her hands, and before the blonde vampire could hiss out in anger, the beast landed on the ground right in front of her. Its powerful jaws opened, about to breath fire, and Alana jumped backwards, wishing she still had her enchanted crossbow; the Dwarven bolts would easily pierce the dragon's eyes and possibly end the battle much sooner than it anticipated.

The dragon released a deadly stream of fire, and she rolled underneath it, hissing in pain as her blood continued to boil thanks to the damn sun. _'Cursed sunlight…at least I fed in the last day. It could even worse than this.'_ Her grip on the Ebony Blade tightened, and she turned to see a few Stormcloaks rushing to enter the fray, heavy greatswords and battleaxes drawn. _'Now that's just perfect. I can't believe this…'_

There were only three of them, all pressed close together, and the blonde took a deep breath before Shouting to knock them out. **"Fus Ro Dah!"** Even though the Shout had decreased in power because of her depression, it was still devastating to any mortal creature that was unfortunate enough to get caught in it. The guards were thrown into the stony walls lining Whiterun, and with them unconscious, Alana turned her attention to the dragon in front of her, sword ready to meet its hide.

However, the beast had vanished into the distance, flying north to Shearpoint. Either it lost its desire to do battle upon seeing her Shout, or it was hoping she would follow it to its lair. Alana eased her stance, and the Ebony Blade disappeared, Mephala quite upset. _"Aww…it's gone. What a pity. Such a heartbreaking performance. The poetry of life and death was ready to be written…and that pathetic worm had to spoil it all by running away like a coward. Oh well."_

"Just shut up, you miserable wench," Alana growled in annoyance before transforming in a hurry, not wanting to be around when the guards regained consciousness. It didn't help that she added an assault charge onto her already long list of crimes within Whiterun hold, including the framed murder of Idolaf Battle-Born, but she knew with a sinking feeling that she didn't have much choice in this matter. It was either use her power or risk getting imprisoned until the Fifth Era came along, and though she was immortal and had time to kill, she didn't feel like spending that time in a cell.

She left in a hurry, flapping her wings as hard as she could, and nearly ran out of breath from the effort of not wanting to get caught. Luckily for her, Whiterun wasn't too far from her hideout in Falkreath hold, and once a considerable distance was put between her and the city, she eased up, using the wind to glide into Skyrim's Pine Forest.

A pang of sorrow pierced her heart when she thought about what she had accomplished, only to end up in her current state, and the blonde looked down at the ground below. _'Everything I fought for…everything I tried so hard to protect. And all I do is end up ruining it.'_ She tried to prevent Paarthurnax from being murdered by the Blades, and that ended with Delphine trying to take her life, calling her a traitor to humanity by protecting a dragon. Alana's bad luck prevented the Breton bitch from succeeding, with a pillar of Sky Haven Temple collapsing and crushing her to death. The Thieves' Guild, where she made most of her fortune, was completely gone. She felt as though no matter where she went, pain was sure to follow her like a plague.

Alana arrived back at 'home', and she reverted her form. Serana was waiting for her, polishing her Elven Dagger, and the black-haired vampire stood up. "You're back. Anything happen?" The blonde thought about how the most sacred tree in Whiterun had lost a limb because of her mere presence, and all it took was a single avert of her gaze for Serana to know what happened. "I see. Alana, you can't blame yourself. It's not your—"

"But it is!" Alana sank to her knees, covering her face. "I didn't even have to draw my sword to kill him. The damn Gildergreen lost a limb simply because I was there and did the damage. Everywhere I go, tragedy is bound to follow…I just don't want it to happen to you. I couldn't bear losing you, too. I don't think I could go on living if you died because of my bad luck. I…I love you." _'I always had a strong bond with you, from the time I met you.'_

Those last three words made Serana blink slowly, and she leaned down, her hand running through Alana's silky hair. "Alana…you have nothing to worry about. I will always be here for the love of my life."

Her arms locked around the blonde's neck, and the two leaned in to kiss. Alana felt the softness of Serana's lips on hers, and her hands settled on Serana's waist as she kissed back. "Serana…"

She leaned back, pulling Serana on top of her, and the black-haired vampire paused. "Alana, are you sure you want to do this? I don't want to seem like I'm forcing you."

Alana nodded, wiping a tear from her golden eyes. "I'm sure. Please, do it…" Her desire to feel the warm touch of the one person she could trust was almost overwhelming, and she ran her hands up and down Serana's legs. _'If there's one thing I know, it's that I want this more than anything.'_ It wasn't uncommon for vampires to suddenly become overwhelmed with lust and desire, especially if their partner was someone they bestowed the gift on blood upon. But if two pure-bloods came in intimate contact, it was almost like a challenge in a way to see which one of the two could last longer.

The last time the two had sex, Alana had been the one to last longer, much to Serana's disappointment at being bested by her lover. This time, as the older vampire unbuttoned her dark red jacket and began to undo the knot of her cape, the blonde accepted the fact that she was going to be the one to lose this round. _'Oh please…please, my love.'_

Once topless, Serana's lips left hers to begin sliding up and down her pale neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Alana let out a weak gasp of pleasure, warmth starting to pool from her body, and she fumbled with the leather straps on Serana's Royal Vampire armor, trying her best to undress her. The black-haired Nord looked down, amusement flashing in her gorgeous golden eyes. "Having a little trouble there, love?"

"…don't rub it in…" Alana blushed, trying to tug at the dangerously seductive armor when she felt part of the straps tear. _'Oh come on…seriously?'_ Her bad luck wouldn't affect Serana directly, but small nuisances like this were constant reminders that it was still hovering over her shoulder, whether she wanted it or not.

Serana's hands gently worked over her soft breasts, barely covered by a dark bra, and she smirked at the soft whines of pleasure that escaped Alana's lips. "The sounds you make are something else, you know that? I can see why you had a league of both women and men trying to get with you."

The blonde's face turned even redder from the comment, and she finally managed to undo the straps on Serana's armor, her pale skin just begging to be caressed and loved. "You're much more attractive than me…"

"Nonsense," Serana scoffed, her fingers quickly removing Alana's bra and letting her soft breasts bounce free with no clothing barring the way. "You were the one who had so many marriage proposals, from men and women. They all wanted to experience a fiery Nord in the sheets." Her touch was gentle, unlike the first time the two made love, and so far it was a nice change; Alana didn't ever want to admit it thanks to her own pride, but she was sore for two days after their little fling in Harkon's bedroom. _'So gentle, and so beautiful. I know why I fell in love with you.'_

The blonde placed her lover's hands on the waistband of her leggings, her lips frantically kissing all over Serana's jaw and neck. "Stop teasing…" Her body was burning up despite the frigid temperatures outside, and her blood was racing through her veins as Serana finally pulled her leggings down, spotting a pair of panties that matched her bra.

The older vampire looked at them with an amused smirk, her hand massaging her clit through the thin clothing. "Aren't you a little feisty? I love it."

Alana moaned as she felt herself get touched intimately, and she moved her hips into her hand, looking with almost pleading golden eyes. "Serana, please…"

Serana gave her a deep kiss, her tongue pushing against the blonde's soft lips, and her fingers traced along her wet entrance. "Open up."

Alana complied willingly, letting the other Nordic vampire's tongue slide into her mouth to show dominance. Being submissive suited the blonde better, and she moaned into the kiss as Serana's slender fingers continued to tease her entrance. "M-mmm~!" She pulled away to breathe, her gaze meeting her lover's. "Just take me already."

"Oh, I will."

* * *

 _Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary_

Astrid paced in her quarters, seething as she read the letter with a shaking hand. "That traitorous little bitch! If she wasn't a member of this family, I'd kill her in an instant!" She kicked the bedside table next to her bed, knocking the Stone of Barenziah she acquired from one of her first ever assassinations onto the floor.

She finally found out why she was falling out with her husband Arnbjorn, and it was not the reason she was expecting. The blonde leader found a rather detailed letter addressed to him from Gabriella, and the tone of the writing suggested the two had a one night stand in the shadowy waters outside the Sanctuary some time ago as an answer to Astrid's overall lack of sexual interest in the werewolf in the last few weeks. _'I should've known that Dunmer whore would try something like this.'_

Her fury grew as she read it again, and she crumpled it into a ball before tossing it into the fireplace, breathing heavily. It wouldn't do her any good to keep the damn thing around, and she didn't need the information getting out to the rest of the Family, especially with that Nightingale and her vampire friend coming. No, for now it was best to keep the matter private.

Astrid picked up a flagon of mead, sniffed its contents, and satisfied that it wasn't rancid, downed its contents. It was Honningbrew, not Black-Briar, and the taste difference was noticeable. Honningbrew was a little sweeter, while Black-Briar was a little more like traditional Nord mead. If she was honest, she wasn't sure she liked it. _'Mead, mead, mead. What the hell is up with my kinsmen and their love of this sewage? Even the Argonians have better taste in alcohol than us.'_

She would've loved to get her hands on some Alto Wine, but currently, the East Empire Company was having trouble safely exporting it to Skyrim with the Red Wave and Dainty Sload patrolling the waters and attacking cargo ships. _'Can't believe that bitch Safia is still alive. Even Nazir is still looking for someone either stupid enough or skilled enough to take her on without endangering this Family's strength.'_ The fact that the pirate captain eluded two attempts on her life irked Astrid more than anything, and she was hoping that Nightingale was as good in combat as she hoped.

Astrid pulled her cowl off, digging through the Sanctuary's main wardrobe to find two additional sets of Dark Brotherhood armor, though something told her the armor itself wouldn't be worn by one of the two newcomers. _'I don't think that girl is going to wear it. Have to admit, that dress jacket did look fine on her. Wonder where she acquired it.'_

She found the sets of armor, and after closing the wardrobe, strutted out of her quarters to find the girl had indeed arrived with her companion. "Ah, hello. I hope you found the place alright." _'Two vampires, and not ones that gained the ability by infection. Curious.'_

"So, what happens now?" the black-haired one she met in Ivarstead asked. She wore a set of Royal Vampire armor, and her Elven Dagger shone with the sharpening of a master blacksmith. Whoever forged the weapon certainly knew their way around an anvil.

"Now, your lives as members of the Dark Brotherhood officially begins," Astrid replied smoothly. "This is our Sanctuary. You'll find no safer place in all of Skyrim, so go ahead and make yourselves at home. I'm Astrid, leader of this Sanctuary."

"Serana," the vampire replied, shifting her stance to fold her arms. The blonde Nightingale was eerily quiet, an air of mystery surrounding her, and it was evident she wasn't one to talk. The conversation Astrid had with her nearly a day ago in Whiterun suggested her nature was more sorrowful than most people who wanted to be a member of the group of shadowy assassins, and there was something else, too. At two different times, Astrid could sense a very dark and heavy aura surrounding the vampire, and it was clear she was dangerous.

She liked dangerous.

Astrid was practically drawn to danger; it was why she married Arnbjorn. He was possibly the strongest member of the Brotherhood in terms of physical power, and his lycanthropy was his greatest asset in battle. But something about this woman was different, and it wasn't just her vampirism. There was something else, something darker. It hung over her like an invisible storm cloud, and for the first time since their conversation in Whiterun, the Nightingale spoke up. "…Alana…"

"I'll be arranging contracts for you two. For now, speak with Nazir," Astrid commanded lightly. "Soon, the Night Mother will be arriving, and our Family will be stronger than before." She handed out the sets of armor to the two, smirking to herself as she pictured the attractive women wearing the rather formfitting armor. "One last thing. A welcome home present, for lack of a better term. The armor of the Dark Brotherhood. May it serve you well in all your…endeavors."

The two vampires took the armor and left to get changed, and Astrid cast a spell once they were gone. The misty figure swirled around, his shrouded hood hiding most of his features, and his voice was eerily pleased. _"Ah, Astrid. Things are progressing well, I assume?"_

"Indeed, Brother Lachance," Astrid smirked. "The one you spoke of is definitely her. 'The Night's daughter will be the bringer of despair. Tragedy will be left in her wake, and Darkness will rise once again'."

" _Excellent work, mistress. But take warning; the girl is far more than meets the eye,"_ Lachance whispered. _"For there is something else that has its hungry gaze set on her. Make sure she doesn't succumb to it. Farewell for now, my dearest Sister."_

Lachance's misty form vanished, and Astrid frowned when a log suddenly tumbled out of the fireplace, embers scattering onto the floor. "Hm. I wonder what he means." _'More than meets the eye? I know that much; I can sense it. But what does he mean by something else has its eyes set on her?'_

' _Make sure she doesn't succumb to it?'_ "Ugh. This is never easy."

 _ **A/N: And that's a wrap for Chapter 3. Please, leave your thoughts in the review section, and I'll try and respond as soon as I can. Chapter 4 is probably going to take me a long fucking time, so if I don't see you before the end of the year, Merry Whatever-the-fuck-you-celebrate and bring in 2018! Whoop whoop!**_


	4. Bane to Every Life

_**A/N: What's up guys? DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE here with chapter 4 of my lone Elder Scroll series fanfic, and I hope you enjoy what I have in store. Some minor smuttiness included.**_

 _ **Sorry this takes so long. I do wish to write for it more often. Hopefully the longer chapters make up for some of the time lapses.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Bane to Every Life***

Alana looked at the scroll of paper given to her by Nazir, her golden eyes heavy as she walked out of the Sanctuary. The paper had a list consisting of the names of the three people she needed to kill, and the blonde vampire felt her sword's handle. _'Narfi, Beitild, and Ennodius? This is almost like that git of a Redguard is trying to mock my skill.'_

" _Oh, my dearest Alana, you shouldn't have to worry about such trivial matters,"_ Mephala giggled. _"After all, it's you, isn't it? You, the Dragonborn who singlehandedly slaughtered the most skilled vampire hunters in Skyrim, should have no trouble taking the lives of a few innocent civilians. What challenge could those pitiful mortals possibly provide to such a renowned killer as yourself?"_

"For the love of Talos, shut the hell up," Alana growled, brushing a tree limb out of her way and ducking to prevent it from catching on her cape. "You're nothing but a sadistic little bitch who gets off trying to play with me." _'Ugh. Why did I ever allow myself to be so weak as to succumb to this whore of a Daedra? I don't even worship the Tribunal.'_ With her being one of Nocturnal's agents, she didn't feel the need to openly worship the other Daedra. However, she did offer herself up to Molag Bal, and even participated in a few of Sanguine's parties.

" _Aww, are you going to be this dull today? I do hate it when you're grouchy,"_ the Daedric Mistress pouted. _"You're so much fun to toy with when you're more…open. Oh, the thrill it provides me when your emotions are flooding from you like a waterfall, whether you're just indulging in my favorite sin of the flesh or weaving a beautiful lie with that skilled tongue; it's so satisfying."_

"And what part of 'Shut up' did you not hear?" Alana hissed, her vampire blood boiling in the sunlight. She pulled out her map from her new Dark Brotherhood pants and sought protection from the sun under the limbs of the trees, biting her lip to prevent making a sharp noise of pain. _'Two targets are in The Pale, and the third is in The Rift. I'll fly over to Dawnstar and make my way down; it'll take me longer trying to get there on foot. Though with this damn sun, the flight is going to hurt.'_

She stuck the map back inside her pants pocket, taking a deep breath and transforming in a hurry; the longer she dallied, the greater chance her targets had of slipping away. She flapped her wings with a soft caw, black feathers dusting the ground, and headed north.

Her blade was going to be very busy indeed.

* * *

Astrid sat in front of her desk, her arms folded as she stared at the paper in front of her, given to her by Nazir. "What the…she was drawn to the wall? But no one who's been a part of this Sanctuary has been able to read the damn thing." _'Curious. I've never seen anyone look twice at it. But according to this, Alana was drawn to it like a bee is to honey. Definitely not just your average assassin.'_

Nazir had a habit of giving his opinion of any new inductees to his mistress via letter as to keep the matter private, and he already wrote out a two page report on both vampires. Serana already made a handful of incredibly sarcastic and snide remarks that produced a few laughs from Veezara and Festus, perfect for keeping up with Nazir's awful puns. Quite the nice catch. _'Impressive. Not many of us are capable of dealing with his terrible jokes.'_

But while Serana was certainly an interesting case, especially with the way she acted when Alana left, Astrid was much more intrigued about the latter. Having ears all over Skyrim, she knew all of the rumors of the legendary Dragonborn and her incredible victory over both the dragons and the Imperials during the civil war. But the descriptions of this figure lacked immense detail; the basic information included that she was a Nord woman with hair the color of golden fields and eyes like the sea after a storm. And yet, as popular as she was, she simply vanished. No one knew where she went. _'She couldn't be…but no one else could possibly be drawn to that wall other than the Dragonborn. Oh, you naughty, naughty girl…'_

Astrid pursed her lips, and she summoned Lucien Lachance again, a small smirk on her lips. "Brother. I think I've worked out part of what you've said in our last meeting when you said Alana was more than meets the eye. She's the Dragonborn, isn't she?" _'True, her eyes are now gold due to her vampirism, but I doubt she was born one.'_

" _Indeed she is, dearest mistress,"_ Lachance replied smoothly, laughing quietly as his ghostly form pulled his hood up. _"But that wasn't what I meant. She might have Akatosh's blood flowing through her, but there is something else I meant. Something that will come clear very, very soon."_

He rolled up the sleeves of his hood, smiling. _"There's a reason why she can shape-shift into the bird of the darkest night, and why she prefers to work alone. But as I said, all will be revealed later, mistress."_

His face turned into a frown, and he crossed his ghostly arms. _"Something bothers me greatly. Our Keeper has yet to arrive, and it's been several months since he left Cyrodiil with our Mother. Have you received word as to his whereabouts?"_

"Not since he arrived in Skyrim," Astrid admitted, feeling frustrated. "I do hope the prancing fool didn't get himself killed or captured." _'I may not like it, but we aren't the Brotherhood without the Night Mother, or a Listener. We need them.'_ The blonde leader originally wanted nothing to do with the Old Ways; to her, all that discipline and rules were why the group of assassins was reduced to common killers. Until Lucien Lachance first spoke to her, that is.

He taught her the beauty of the Old Ways, how they were the only thing keeping the Brotherhood safe in the Pine Forest. He was frustrated too by the group's recent decline, but Lucien was devout in his servitude to Sithis, and always would be; he wouldn't reveal himself to a leader with ears unworthy of his voice. He had faith that a Listener would soon make themselves known, once the Keeper of the Night Mother arrived at their Sanctuary.

" _Have faith, sister,"_ Lucien whispered. _"For now, enjoy the fruits of your most recent acquisition; after all, it's only a small amount of time before the full power of a Daughter of Coldharbour is shown to you. Count yourself privileged to have two of these deadly killers at your disposal."_

"Coldharbour?"

" _The realm of Lord Molag Bal, the Daedric Prince of Domination who granted the gift of vampirism to mortals,"_ the ghostly assassin answered smoothly. _"Females who follow his faith offer themselves up to him, and he violates them until they reemerge as a vampire of the purest of blood. The individuals who survive the ordeal become known as the Daughters of Coldharbour, and possess remarkable strength. You have two of these undead in your ranks now."_

Astrid almost felt sick as Lucien explained. "You mean to tell me…followers of Molag Bal willingly let him violate them in order to receive his power? That just sounds revolting." _'Why on earth would Alana want to submit herself to that kind of torture? It's utterly disgusting.'_ Her uncle had made unwanted advances on her when she was younger, but she slit his throat before he could actually rape her.

" _To us, indeed,"_ Lucien agreed. _"However, ones seduced by the promise of it or are shaken beyond the point of reasoning will do anything to gain such formidable power. She is one such case; betrayal makes one's mind clouded. And so she submitted to Molag Bal. I imagine he was incredibly pleased to have one of Akatosh's blood offer herself to him."_

"Mistress? May I come in?" Nazir stood outside her room, his dark gaze unconcerned by Lucien's presence; he was used to the leader communicating with the spectral assassin by now. "It appears I found a bit of interesting material on our little blonde friend. It may be nothing more than lies, but if anything, it gives one something to consider."

"You can enter," Astrid nodded. "What sort of material?"

"This." Nazir pulled out a list of several Thalmor strongholds in Skyrim, and nearly all of them were destroyed. "Someone seems to have quite the grudge against the Aldmeri Dominion. Big enough for them to have murdered several high-ranking Justiciars and the First Ambassador herself. But here's where it gets interesting. 'Reports from a survivor of the Northwatch Keep incident indicate that the person responsible for its destruction, as well as the loss of a valuable prisoner, is none other than the 'Last Nightingale'. No attempts to be made to attack her without overwhelming force, for she is capable of transforming into a deadly gargoyle-like monster. The fact she is capable of slaughtering our assassination teams and disappearing without a trace remains a blight on our record.'"

He stopped reading, and a smile crept onto his face as he stroked his beard. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" His eyes were alight with a dark passion, something that had been missing from the Redguard in recent years.

"That the fortunes of the Dark Brotherhood are finally going to turn around after so many painful years of watching us decline into a band of common cutthroats?" Astrid asked rhetorically. "Yes, Nazir. I read what you said about our blonde friend being drawn to the wall, and have come to my own conclusion."

She paused, not sure if he needed to know exactly what he was dealing with in terms of what Alana really was. _'No. He has no real reason to know, other than to quench his own curiosity. It's best for only me and Lucien to know everything for the meantime.'_ "She is clearly versed in dragon-tongue, and exceptionally skilled in combat. She may have that sorrowful and antisocial appearance, but don't let the surface fool you. Keep an eye on her progress."

She raised her hand in dismissal, and Nazir promptly left, leaving Astrid alone with Lucien. The spectral assassin gave her a curious stare, crossing his arms. _"You did not tell him everything. May I ask why?"_

"He doesn't need to know anymore than he needs to," Astrid replied swiftly, pulling the Blade of Woe from her belt and spinning it in her hand. "We don't need Alana getting the attention she has no desire for." _'Enchantment is running low. I might need to ask Festus to give me a soul gem to recharge it.'_

" _Interesting to see you take this route, Sister,"_ Lucien breathed. _"Sithis is calling for me; I'm afraid it is time we parted ways."_ He vanished with a whisper of a sound, and Astrid was once again alone.

She was unaccustomed to the freedom it provided. Until recently, she would often be basking in the company by her husband and enjoying watching him squirm. She didn't say anything to the lycanthrope, but she made it known using actions that she was aware of his little affair with Gabriella. _'Disgraceful. Dark Brotherhood or not, Nords are expected to keep some sort of honor. Can't even honor a damn marriage.'_

Astrid closed the entrance to her chambers, making it clear to the other members that she was not to be disturbed under any circumstances short of an attack on the Sanctuary or the arrival of the Keeper himself. Though she didn't believe disruption was likely; everyone except Nazir and Babette were out on contracts, and the two knew better than to barge in without permission.

Astrid slowly undressed, feeling a familiar primal need start to build up inside her. And with no 'husband' to quell her desires, there was only one way to prevent it from irritating her throughout the rest of day. She was going to have to take matters into her own hands. _'It's been a long time since I've last done something like this.'_

Her simple dark undergarments complimented her darker nature quite well, and the blonde leader lit a pair of candles the shade of blood before retiring to her bed. The sheets were of the same fabric used by the Thanes of Solitude, and provided maximum comfort and warmth for anyone lucky enough to be able to acquire one.

She'd definitely use it to her advantage.

Astrid felt along edges of her fit body, her blue eyes slowly turning hazy as her slender fingers danced across the pale skin. Her tongue swirled across her soft lips, and a wonderful picture of the blonde Dragonborn kneeling before her painted itself in her mind. _'Hm. Would be quite nice to have her for myself.'_

She started to knead her sensitive mound, biting her lip as a sharpened breath left her throat. The simple touch produced excitement, something that had been lacking in the blonde's life for far too long, and she dug her teeth in as she feverishly pulled her panties down, heat flooding from her wet core.

Astrid shivered in eager anticipation, and she slid a pair of her fingers inside herself. A soft cry of pleasure escaped her throat, and she shook, her body unused to the sudden entry. A few seconds passed, and she felt her body get used to it.

She began to move her fingers back and forth, muffled moans filled with passion leaving her lips. Her spare hand squeezed a soft breast, sending an energized bolt through her. Astrid moved her hips into her movements, greedily plunging her fingers deeper to reach the spot that she wished was touched more often.

She curled her fingers, arching her back, and many delicious scenes of her making the Dragonborn submit to her flooded her mind. _'By Sithis…yes. I'd love to claim her and make her beg.'_

The lack of recent sexual activity meant she was out of it, and sensitive. And the blonde resented it, even as she felt her pleasure building up. Her thighs open, hand still plunging deeper into herself, she moaned out. Astrid shivered despite the candles providing warmth, and she bit her lip down to prevent a louder moan from echoing throughout the Sanctuary; mostly vacated or not, she was being far from her usual stealthy self, and one would have to be incredibly deaf to not hear her, even through the door. _'Dammit. I should've had Nazir take Babette out to feed. I did not think this through completely.'_

Lewd and scandalous images of the Dragonborn's naked toned form flashed across her eyes, and she shivered before her hips bucked up. Her mouth was open in a cry of pleasure, and her thighs shook for several seconds as she rode out her release. Astrid removed her fingers, eyeing the sticky fluid coating them, and she stuck them in her mouth, suckling on them. The taste was unusual, and it played with her tastebuds in ways she didn't believe possible. _'Hmm. Not bad. I should do this more often instead of letting it build up.'_

Astrid pulled her dark panties back on, and she struggled to fit her tight Dark Brotherhood armor, the leather hugging her frame. Once dressed, she pulled her hair back and fit the Blade of Woe to her belt, and she heard the door to the Sanctuary open. _'What the hell? Who's here?'_

She quickly left her chambers, dagger drawn, only to stop when she saw an Imperial man with a tall coffin beside him. "Keeper Cicero?" _'It's about damn time. I sent that letter months ago.'_

The Imperial was dressed as a jester, and he squealed in delight like a demented child before clapping his hands. "Oh, Mistress! It's so good to see you!"

Astrid sighed, wishing she just stayed in her chambers and continued doing what she was doing earlier. _'Well, this is just great. Can't be any more annoying than this, can it?'_

Nazir was not going to be happy dealing with him.

* * *

Alana landed on the rooftop of the Jarl's palace in Dawnstar, a pair of feathers falling to the snowy ground below her. _'Finally made it to Dawnstar. Took me long enough.'_ She transformed, leaping down to the ground and landing on one knee. Her long cape trailed in the snow, and the vampire reached behind her to pull her Ebony Sword out of its holster.

Her golden eyes hungrily searched for fresh blood, and Alana felt her thirst grow upon seeing her target. Beitild was walking towards the Iron-Breaker Mine, her pickaxe on her waist, and the blonde slowly crept towards her.

Normally, a dagger of some kind would be ideal for situations like this; they were easy to conceal and very common amongst the people of Skyrim. But if there was weapon Alana was not good with, it was the smaller blades; they felt flimsy and brittle in her hands.

The dark blade glowed with enchantments, and the Nord kept a tight grip on its handle as she stalked her prey. _'She doesn't know I'm here.'_

Beitild stopped in front of the smelter that resided outside of her mine, and she started shoveling in iron ore to make ingots. Alana crept closer, and rather predictably, her bad luck reared its scaly head.

Beitild's foot slipped in the icy snow, and she crashed face first into the smelter. A sickening crack reached Alana's ears, and the mine boss slumped to ground, now dead; her neck was broken from the impact.

" _Excellent work,"_ Mephala cooed. _"It doesn't look like your blade will need to feast on any blood tonight; you can kill them just by being close to them. Talk about dreadfully boring, though."_

"Shut up," Alana hissed, sliding her sword back into its holster and transforming; a guard was already on his way to examine Beitild's sudden demise, and seeing a pale woman with a greatsword standing by the corpse was incriminating. _'One down, two to go.'_

Anga's Mill, the last known location of her next target Ennodius, was directly south of Dawnstar and just outside Windhelm. A quick flight over the mountains, maybe twenty minutes total.

The wind coming off the Sea of Ghosts helped the vampire as she glided over the vast emptiness of The Pale, pushing her towards her next victim. The sun burned her, even in her crow form, and its rays danced over the snow to create shades of pink and orange. Her homeland was truly a beautiful and dangerous mistress.

Below, she could still see the bony remains of one of the many dragons she slew in her previous mission of eradicating every last one of Alduin's allies, and a surge of regret coursed through her. _'I was supposed to be the hero of Skyrim. The true protector of humanity. And yet, I fell victim to the seductive nature of my powers. I offered my body and soul to the Daedra for their powers, and now, I'm reduced to being a damn murderer of the very people I was supposed to protect.'_

Yet until she was able to prove her innocence of certain crimes against her to the current High King, Ulfric Stormcloak, she would kill in the name of the Dark Brotherhood.

She spotted a small tent by the crashing waters of the River Yorgrim, and flew down towards it. The mill was maybe a hundred feet away from her, and sitting on a rock, looking around nervously as if expecting an attack any minute was her next target. Ennodius Papius, the ex-miller.

Nazir told her that the Imperial man used to be the miller at Anga's Mill, until he left after becoming convinced that someone was after him and wanted him dead. Only this time, his paranoia was fully justified; someone was out to kill him.

Alana transformed as she landed, one knee on the ground, and she stood up, hoping she didn't make too much of a noise. _'Don't turn around, don't turn around…'_

Ennodius did hear her, though; he whirled around, his hands plunging for an iron dagger. "What are you doing here!? Get away from me!"

He turned and started to run, and Alana drew her sword, using her strength to throw the heavy blade. It spun in the air, stabbing him in the back. The Imperial fell to the ground, the blood-soaked sword protruding from his chest, and Alana slowly walked over to his rapidly dying body. "You were right to be paranoid, Ennodius."

She placed a boot on his back, gripping her sword and removing it. Ennodius' body fell into the icy waters, and the blonde vampire scoffed bitterly as she realized how good of a job she was doing. _'Pathetic. I trained as a warrior, and yet here I am, using my skills as an assassin.'_

She shook the blood off of the dark blade, staining the ground crimson, and transformed again.

The final target for her was Narfi, a beggar who resided in the ruined house just outside of Ivarstead. Alana had dealt with him before; he talked in a funny way and was very distraught to find out his sister had died in the river. But for the most part, the beggar kept to himself and out of sight of the other residents of the small farming community; it was hard to believe that he angered someone enough to warrant death via the Dark Brotherhood. _'I wonder what in Oblivion he did. It's not like him to draw attention.'_

" _Attention or not, he must die,"_ Mephala whispered gleefully.

"Aren't you supposed to hate the Brotherhood? You're worshipped by the Brotherhood's rivals, the Morag Tong."

" _True, my dearest. But it is much more thrilling to see my champion do the bidding of another,"_ the Daedric Mistress laughed. _"Why do you think I haven't laid claim to your soul, or have interest in it? It will be more amusing for me to watch Nocturnal and Molag Bal fight over who gets your soul."_

"Manipulative to the end, I see," Alana hissed, soaring over the hills of The Pale and Whiterun before seeing Ivarstead approach in the distance. "I bet you're enjoying me kill the people I was supposed to protect."

" _Indeed I do,"_ Mephala replied. _"Knowing you, I bet you wish you were employed to hunt down anyone connected to the Aldmeri Dominion. Even from your time in Cyrodiil, you made your disgust for those cowardly elves known. Too bad Dibella didn't let you take time off so you could plunge a sword into their chests, hmmm?"_

"Shut up," Alana growled. "I didn't exactly leave the temple on good terms."

Before coming home to Skyrim, the blonde was a priestess in a temple to the Goddess of Beauty, Dibella. She was devout in her faith to the goddess, worshipping Her for most of her mortal life. However, there was a bit of a problem. Dibella's teachings were being taken to the extreme by the Mother, an Imperial woman who had a certain belief that they should be let themselves be taken by as many men as possible. Alana refused, knowing of her preferences by this stage, and was unceremoniously kicked out of the temple, her status torn from her.

After being banished from the temple, she left Cyrodiil behind and made her way north, back to her true homeland.

Alana reached Ivarstead, and it was easy to spot Narfi; he was the only beggar in Ivarstead, and he wasn't one to roam around the village. She landed on the support beams of the broken house, Narfi only about eight feet below, and quietly transformed.

Her sword silently slid out of its holster, and Narfi didn't even get to turn around before his throat was slit. Scarlet blood splashed out, and Alana flicked the blood off of her blade before stepping over the body, walking over towards the inn to grab a drink.

The inn had grown over the past year, gaining fame as the place the Dragonborn rested before learning to study with the Greybeards. Now, it was two floors high, and more homes had sprung up. It was busy for a farming community, yet the guards were nonexistent; all of them had been pulled to fortify Riften, leaving the village to fend for themselves.

Alana watched as a crow landed on the mill, and one of the logs rolled off of its stack. _'I was never a hero. All I've done is kill, steal, and lie to further my own end.'_

' _How did I fall so far?'_

It was difficult knowing she was a bane to every life she came across.

 _ **A/N: And that's it. Chapter 5 might be awhile, but hopefully not too far. Leave your thoughts in the review section below, and I'll see you all very soon.**_


	5. Guaranteed Catastrophe

_**A/N: Chapter 5 of my Skyrim fic is here. I am trying to not have massive breaks in-between chapters *insert another lame-ass excuse here*, and I also don't want to turn this into a giant smutfest, which let's be honest: a lot of stories like this end up that way. I hope this elongated chapter makes up for the delay.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Guaranteed Catastrophe***

Alana entered the Sanctuary, and she was alarmed by the arrival of a new person talking about something with Astrid. He was an Imperial man, dressed as a jester, and an Ebony Dagger was strapped to his hip. But what alarmed the blonde vampire was the presence emitting from the large box next to him; it was a cold sense of death, and the aura of it seemed to focus on her. _'Who the bloody hell is that? And what's in that box?'_

"The Night Mother is mother to us all!" the man shrieked, twitching nervously as other members of the Dark Brotherhood began to take notice of the conversation. "It is her voice we follow, her will! Would you dare risk disobedience and suffer punishment?"

"Keep talking, little man, and we'll see who gets punished," Arnbjorn growled, a hand reaching for his battleaxe.

"Be quiet, you great lumbering lapdog," Astrid hissed. She was glaring daggers at the werewolf, who returned the stare with a snarl curled on his lip. Astrid turned back to the eccentric man, and Alana could hear her trying to control her anger. "As leader of this Sanctuary, I welcome you and the Night Mother, Cicero. Your arrival signals a return to tradition, and you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper. Understood, _Arnbjorn_?"

The last word spoken was laden with venom, and it was directed straight towards the blonde leader's husband. The werewolf growled in return, folding his arms before stalking away, and Astrid brushed a hand through her hair before facing Alana. "Ah, there you are. Good, I was done talking with Cicero anyway."

"…" Alana didn't reply, starting to feel a familiar thirst creep up again; it had been awhile since she last fed, and with Serana out on a few contracts of her own, there wasn't a fresh supply waiting. _'Dammit. Of all the times to start feeling hungry, it is when I'm in the presence of humans.'_ Her vision turned red for a few moments, and Alana's fangs longed to sink into the tender flesh of Astrid's neck. She could see the veins, and the sweet aroma of Astrid's blood was irresistible. The temptation to sink her teeth and drain her dry was there, and it took a lot of her self-control to fight the primal urges. _'No, no, no…now is not the time.'_

"I have a primary contract for you," Astrid said, unaware of the vampire fighting the bloodlust. "I need you to go to the city of Markarth; more specifically the apothecary The Hag's Cure. Speak with the apothecary's assistant, Muiri. The girl's been running her mouth about wanting an ex-lover killed and has performed the Black Sacrament. Short-haired Breton girl, with makeup under her eyes. Shouldn't be too hard to find."

"Anything else?" Alana asked quietly, struggling to keep her composure around such a delicious aroma. If it were anyone else, she probably would've given into the desire and pin them against the wall before indulging on their blood by now. _'Fight it. You can resist it, no matter how tempting. You fought against the temptation of Hermaeous Mora himself; you can handle not feeding for a few days.'_

" _Ah, but you couldn't resist the touch of another woman, could you?"_ Mephala taunted. _"The way their delicate fingers dance over your skin, the sensation of their lips upon your own; it produces a feeling that not even you can combat."_

' _Rot in Oblivion,'_ Alana seethed.

"No. Just represent us well, and perform the task efficiently," Astrid replied silkily. "Since this is your very first contract, whatever payment she gives is yours. And she'll be quite generous; they always are. Speak with Nazir for payment of your other assassinations before you go." She turned away, almost purposely shaking her hips on her way out. It was if she was trying to tempt the vampire, like she knew something Alana hadn't spoken of.

' _Concentrate,'_ Alana scolded inwardly. _'You have more important things to worry about at the moment, and wondering if your mistress is trying to tempt you is not one of them.'_ She walked deeper into the Sanctuary, and she saw Arnbjorn give her a glare as she passed. The ancient feud between vampires and werewolves was legendary; the two classes of immortals often clashing in the shadows while the rest of Tamriel slept peacefully, unaware of the war between them. And the fact his ex-wife was seemingly taking an interest in the blonde didn't help. _'Ugh. The stench of lycanthropy is revolting. Hircine's gift is a joke.'_

Alana found Nazir sitting at a long table, and the Redguard smirked when he saw her approach. "Ah, you're back. I imagine you have news for me?"

"Narfi, Beitild, and Ennodius are dead," Alana answered quietly, still combating her bloodlust around the scent of fresh blood. It was growing stronger and stronger; any moment, and the vampire would crack and give in.

"Of course Beitild is dead. I hear the mining business is extremely 'cutthroat'," the Redguard chuckled. "And those hours are 'murder'. Ah, I could do this all day. Here's your payment. And congratulations on slaughtering a helpless beggar in cold blood. You are truly an opponent to be feared."

' _Keep trying to antagonize me, and you'll end up with a fist in your face.'_ Alana let out a low hiss of displeasure, and she snatched the gold away from him with a glare. Her burning golden gaze would've intimidated a lesser human, and being blood-starved should have sent him screaming into the woods with his tail between his legs like a helpless pup.

Nazir took notice, and he smirked. "Ah, the classic burning vampiric glare. It has been a long time since I've seen that look. You may find your targets will scamper away and quake in terror, but I've been at this game for a long time, friend. I'm not so easily impressed or frightened."

"Neither are the Thalmor," Alana hissed, baring her long canines. "And they end up torn to pieces by the time I'm done with them." _'Such cowards. I won't stop until they receive what they deserve.'_

"So it is you who has been killing off every single member of the Aldmeri Dominion you come across," Nazir chuckled. "I had a good feeling it was you. Been giving them quite the thrashing, from what I hear. Burned an entire Thalmor prison to the ground and murdered the First Ambassador herself, along with several high-ranking Justiciars, too."

"I won't stop until every last Dominion soldier is dead," the blonde growled, her anger surging through her body. Her back started to quiver, and the painful transformation into her Vampire Lord form was drawing near. "And by Talos, I won't break that promise." Damn, his neck was so close, and her fangs were already yearning to sink into that tasty-looking skin. _'Don't you dare do it. Transforming now will start a panic, and the smell of fear in the air will only strengthen your bloodlust.'_

"Go on, then," Nazir chuckled. "And for Sithis' sake, try not to get yourself killed in your little revenge quest right before you complete a contract for Astrid; I doubt our mistress would be happy about her new favorite buying the farm so soon, hmm?"

Alana didn't bite; instead, she took her gold and walked away quietly. If she opened her mouth to reply, she was certain she'd say a nasty remark before attempting to sink her fangs into his throat. And with her starving for blood, the Redguard would end up a dry husk. _'Fight it, girl. Fight it…'_

She passed by Serana on her way out, and the more sarcastic vampire looked concerned. "Are you alright? You look like you haven't fed in a few days."

"…I haven't," Alana admitted. "It's no matter. I can go a little while longer without a feed." _'Such a lie, and you know it. Any minute now, and you'll snap. All it takes is for one person to accidentally cut themselves, and your senses will go crazy. You'll end up turning into the monster you are.'_

She could tell Serana didn't buy the lie, either. But, she didn't make any attempt to stop the Dragonborn, and let out a sigh. "Alright. Be careful; you aren't exactly popular in Markarth right now."

She was right; the last time the blonde was in the city of blood and silver, Alana created a little bit of mayhem by slaughtering Thonar Silver-Blood in cold blood for his atrocities. While locals of the Reach saw her acts as that of a heroine, the guards in Thonar's pocket did not, and wanted to put her head on a spike for murder. _'I'd like to see them try. They have no right to call themselves Nords; a true embarrassment to my kind.'_ "No promises."

Alana left, and she saw Astrid stealing a glance at her as she passed. Her dangerously seductive blue gaze sent shivers down her back, and Alana growled in frustration as her shoulders became heavy with Mephala's presence. _"Oh my. I wonder if Serana now has some competition for your affections. I admire your taste. Beautiful, dangerous…mmm, I love it."_

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alana snarled. _'No. I'd never betray Serana's emotions like that. I owe her too much, and I love_ her _, not someone else.'_

" _Keep lying to yourself, gorgeous,"_ Mephala laughed. _"Whether you like it or not, you will succumb to your darkest and most intimate desires, and you'll have the leader of the Dark Brotherhood in your very bed. Mmmm, talk about being scandalously delicious. Bold even for you. I guess bedding the equivalent of vampire royalty isn't enough for you, hmm?"_

Alana growled again, and she bit her tongue to hold back an irritated response. _'It's not worth it. There's no way in Oblivion she's going to actually listen to you. Little bitch.'_

Outside, it was nighttime, the stars and moons being the only light provided. It was more than enough; by the time she reached Markarth, it would probably be closer to dawn, and the sun didn't bode well for a blood-starved vampire like herself. And dealing with the Forsworn would be another nuisance for the Dragonborn.

She heard a single soft caw, and the blonde raised her arm to let a fellow bird of misfortune land on her hand. Its black eyes stared into hers, and it groomed its glossy feathers with its beak. _'The night holds much power, if one looks for it. However, one must be careful to not fall into temptation, lest they fall victim to its cruel mistress.'_

' _And yet I've done just that.'_ She closed her eyes, slowly walking through the Pine Forest. The crow cawed and flew away, leaving behind one of its soft feathers for her on her shoulder. _'I sought the power dwelling in the shadows of my own heart, and was cursed for it. So much thinking I could get away with lying, cheating, and stealing to further my own end.'_

Alana stopped. She heard movement in the woods, not far behind her. _'That sounds…a lot like a buckle on a boot. Dawnguard?'_ She had killed every last high-ranking member of the Dawnguard when she raided Dayspring Canyon on orders from Fura Bloodmouth, but stragglers stilled remained hidden throughout Skyrim, refusing to quit until they were slaughtered.

She reached for her sword, and was glad she did; no sooner had she turned around did a steel bolt narrowly miss her, striking the tree next to her with a loud thump. _'Son of a.. I can't ever enjoy a peaceful nighttime stroll with no one but my thoughts, can I?'_

Using her improved eyesight, she quickly found the Dawnguard hiding in the shadows of the Pine Forest. _'Nice try. But the night is my domain, not yours.'_ "Found you, Dawnguard."

"I'm going to enjoy killing you," the man snarled. Judging by his accent he was a Breton, and Alana parried a crossbow bolt with her sword, deflecting it back towards him. The bolt lodged itself in his arm, and he cursed in annoyance as he tried to remove it to no avail, the vampire approaching him. "Damn you! By Stendarr, you'll pay for that!"

The bolt splintered, blood seeping from the wound, and Alana's sword flashed in an arc. The Breton's body fell to the ground, and his head rolled away into the woods to be feasted on by a bear or possibly a troll. Alana spun her weapon in her hands before sliding it into its sheath, and she scoffed at how little of a fight her opponent put up. _'He didn't have a chance in Oblivion. And I thought bolts were typically easy to remove, unlike arrows.'_

' _Remember what you are, girl. The walking catastrophe.'_ Alana sighed, looking up into the sky. The cool air that felt so good on her exposed forearms wouldn't last forever once that cursed sun rose.

And it was a long walk to Markarth. _'I'd better get going.'_

* * *

Serana sighed as she undid the belts on her armor, the pale skin underneath breathing. "Dammit Alana…" _'Why? Why do you insist on doing this to yourself? You know damn well you're starving, so why do you continue to lie and say you're fine?'_

Alana didn't need to say a word about not feeding; Serana knew her well enough to tell that she was blood-starved. Her sad eyes looked had a familiar hunger in them, and it was getting dangerous. One small slip-up, and the blonde vampire would undergo the transformation into the Vampire Lord form.

And that would not bode well for anyone.

"Worried about her, are you?" a silky voice murmured behind her.

Serana spun, reaching for her dagger, only to relax once she saw it was Astrid. The assassin was leaning casually against the hard stony walls of the Sanctuary, her dark gaze unreadable, and Serana scoffed. "Not a day goes by where I don't worry about her. One day, I'm afraid that her self-loathing nature is going to get the better of her." _'Truth be told, I'm more than worried. I'm completely terrified. The one person to show me compassion hates herself, and it's only a matter of time before it bites her.'_ She chuckled bitterly at the irony of a vampire being bitten, instead of the other way around.

"Self-loathing, you say?" Astrid's eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "I'd go even further than that and say borderline suicidal. Attacking the Aldmeri Dominion the way she is? Only someone who truly doesn't care whether they live or die would do such a thing."

"You don't know a damn thing about her," Serana returned, bristling. "So don't act like you do."

"I know more about her than you'd think," Astrid countered, a devious smirk creeping onto her face. "Only one person in Skyrim would be drawn to the wall in the Sanctuary the way she was. She's the Dragonborn who been missing for the past few months and is what you'd call a 'Daughter of Coldharbour'. A vampire who offered herself up to the Daedric Lord of Domination, Molag Bal."

"You're well-informed." Serana winced as the memories of her own horrific ritual resurfaced, and she banished them to the dark recesses of her mind before they could play before her again like the reading of an Elder Scroll.

"Comes with having a faithful servant of the Void at your beck and call." Astrid took a seat on a comfortable chair, crossing her legs. "And I notice you don't deny her being Dragonborn."

"No point in denying something that's the truth."

"You know, I'm beginning to like you even more."

Serana shared a quiet laugh with the assassin, pulling on a set of normal clothes with her work for the day finished. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I'm feeling a little hungry." _'Damn. That aroma of hers is irresistible. A weaker vampire would have succumbed to the desire to get a taste of that delicious blood of hers. How Alana managed to fight the urge while blood-starved is a miracle.'_

"Careful," Astrid warned, smirking. "Our friend might think there's competition for your affections."

"As if," Serana shot back, hands on her hips. "I'm not so easily swayed by a pretty face."

"Aw, now you've gone and hurt this pretty face's feelings," Astrid mocked. "What shall I do knowing that my charm has fallen on deaf ears?"

It was clear the assassin was only teasing, but Serana still rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Build a bridge and get over it seems like a good start."

"My, quite the mouth on you. I can see why Alana likes you so much." Astrid's smirk grew. "Must be rather skilled with that tongue to end up with the Dragonborn."

Serana hoped she didn't flush at the innuendo. "I'll take that as a compliment." _'You're not slick. I know what you're insinuating. And while it may be true, I'd prefer if our relationship wasn't put on display for everyone in the Sanctuary to gawk at.'_

"Take it however you want, dear sister. I'll take my leave." Astrid left, her hips swaying, and Serana bit back a lusty hiss. By Sithis, her blood was just perfect. Sweet, rich, and invigorating. Her and Alana could probably last on a single taste for days. _'Dammit. It's like she knows. She must be trying to tempt one of us into taking her. No other way a mortal would act like this in front of a vampire.'_

' _I need to talk to Alana about this, when she gets back.'_ Damn, her dagger was starting to dull.

* * *

Alana entered Markarth, and she was grateful she managed to reach the city before dawn hit. The streets were quiet, with her enhanced hearing only picking up the crashing of the waterfall and the hushed whispers of excitement from the smelters as they talked about the woman who made a name for herself by escaping Cidhna Mine with the leader of the Forsworn and killed Thonar Silver-Blood. _'If only they knew that the woman who's praise they're singing is nothing more than a guaranteed catastrophe and a murderer.'_

She felt a pang of despair when she sensed a pair of pitiful eyes looking down on her. Dibella's presence was strong in the city of blood and silver, and Alana couldn't bring herself to step foot in Her temple. _'I've betrayed you, My Lady. I've become what you despise. A Daedric servant, and an abomination of the night. The gods were right to curse me for what I've done.'_

" _Aw, you mean to tell me you'd give up your power in a heartbeat?"_ Mephala taunted.

' _If it meant saving the ones I love, then yes,'_ Alana shot back. _'But I can't bring myself to face Her. I know I can never be forgiven for what I've done. I misused the gifts of Kyne and Akatosh to further my own end, and turned my back on my true goddess. There's no redemption for me.'_

" _Drown in your sorrow. It gives me pleasure like you wouldn't believe."_

' _And you can rot for all I care.'_

Alana spotted a young Breton woman with makeup under her eyes come from the Silver-Blood Inn, and she approached her. _'Matches the description given to me by Astrid. Short haired, makeup under the eyes.'_

Muiri looked shocked to see the blonde, and she backed away uneasily. "Who are you? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The Dark Brotherhood has come, Muiri." Alana let her hood fall down, her blonde hair scattering. "Now, what is it that you want?" _'Dammit. I need to stop putting off feeding.'_ She could see the girl's veins. Surely no one would notice if she pushed her against the stony walls of the inn and salvaged a taste?

"What I want? What I want is for Alain Dufont to die!" Muiri hissed in anger, her fists balling. "I want him slaughtered like the helpless pup he is!"

"I'll need more details than that," the blonde sighed.

"I didn't know it when we were together, but Alain is the leader of a group of bandits. They're holed up in Raldbthar, a Dwarven ruin outside of Windhelm," Muiri continued. "I don't care about his friends, but Alain needs to die for what he did to me."

"It will be done." Alana turned around, ready to go on her way over to the mountains overlooking Windhelm to slaughter the bandit leader. She was familiar with the ruins, having delved into it to find the shard of Aetherium buried in its Falmer-infested depths. The ruins were large, oily, and filled with Dwemer artifacts. It was perfect for a hideout.

"There's one more thing, if you're interested?" Muiri asked hesitantly. Alana stopped, and when she faced the young Breton, she continued on. "I want you to kill someone else. Nilsine Shatter-Shield in Windhelm. It's not part of the contract, but I'll make it worth your while."

Alana nodded, and she turned to leave the city. She was aware of the bounty on her head within The Reach, and staying any longer would only invite disaster. _'I've caused enough trouble for the common people of Skyrim, and this city has already seen its fair share of pain and bloodshed.'_

The sky was beginning to turn from black to a faint shade of indigo, the hue a warning that the sun was on its way again. _'Cursed sunlight. I should've brought Auriel's Bow with me.'_ Her Bloodcursed Arrows would be able to block out the sun, and the vampire wouldn't have to worry about the pain of the sunlight burning her blood.

Alana pulled her hood back on, and she was about to leave the city when a large shadow darkened the ground, and a loud cry reached her ears. "Dragon." _'Dammit!'_

The scaly beast landed in front of her, jaws wide, and the blonde sliced it on the nose with her sword as it attacked. She climbed up, the dragon struggling underneath her, and Alana slashed its mouth open with her sword. Blood spilled from the wound, and the dragon yelped out in pain. Another slash, and the dragon cried before it fell to the ground in a heap. Its scaly body began to disintegrate, and Alana gasped as the memories and knowledge of her slain foe filled her, making her fall to one knee. Flashes of battles from the Dragon War played in front of her eyes, and it took a few seconds for her to recover. _'Bloody hell. No matter how many dragons I kill, I never get used to the idea of devouring their very soul._

The Dragonborn stood up, brushing herself off, and walked over to the horse-drawn carriage by the stables. The carriage driver was a middle-aged Nord, and he looked at her with worn eyes as she approached. "Where do you need to go?" He must've missed her killing that dragon; it wasn't like she was particularly discreet about it.

"Windhelm," Alana answered, feeling her exhaustion starting to creep up on her. She hadn't gotten any sleep in a few days, and as durable as she was thanks to her vampirism, she needed to sleep.

"Climb in back." The man took the gold coins from her, and the blonde climbed up. The wooden benches weren't the most comfortable, but considering what she was used to living on before joining the Brotherhood, it was a little better. Plus, the gentle rocking of the carriage had a way of putting her to sleep.

"If you can, wake me once we arrive," the blonde requested. The driver nodded in reply, cracking the whips and making the horses start.

Alana rested her head against the wood, and it wasn't long before the swaying of the carriage drifted her off to a sleep filled with nightmares.

* * *

 _Alana was tossed out of the ruined building, hitting the ground with a cry of pain. Her sword was in hand, and she struggled to her feet, holding her side and spitting out a mouthful of blood._

 _Her opponent, a mysterious Dunmer, leapt out, also bleeding profusely from several cuts on his own body. Alana prepared to meet him, only for Astrid to interfere, blocking with her dagger._

" _Do you wish to be sacrificed?" the Dunmer sneered._

" _No," Astrid hissed. She looked back at Alana, who was shocked by the sudden interference. "But I'm not going to just stand idly by and lose someone else."_

 _She dashed to the side, and the two women both attacked the Dunmer at the same time. The elf blocked both strikes, and when Alana went to spin, she felt herself get kicked in the back. She winced, and when she recovered, she saw that Astrid was about to get impaled by one of the Dunmer's cruel blades._

 _She shoved Astrid out of the way, blocking with her back turned to her enemy and spinning, gritting her teeth with both hands on her greatsword. "Astrid! What the hell did I say!? Get back!"_

" _This is my fight too!" Astrid yelled back, taking a slash at the elf. He leapt over her, still keeping his guard up on Alana._

 _The blonde vampire began to panic; she could see the scenario happening before it did. The support beams of the house were weak, and her bad luck was running active. "No, it's not that!"_

 _Astrid charged, and was kicked back. The support beams finally gave out, and the blonde leader didn't even have time to look up before she was crushed by the sheer weight. She let out a deathly scream, and Alana's eyes threatened to burst as she stabbed her assailant in the throat, running over to the carnage._

 _Alana pushed the rubble away, and she fell to her knees, sobbing when she found Astrid's lifeless body lying on the ground. "A-astrid…"_

" _NO!"_

* * *

Alana woke up with a start, reaching for her sword. A light dusting of her snow was on her, and she saw the concerned eyes of the carriage driver looking at her. "Are you alright, miss? You were muttering in your sleep."

"I'm fine," Alana answered, slightly shaken by what she just saw. Dream or not, it felt real, as if it was something that was bound to happen. _'Who in Oblivion was that? And why was Astrid there?'_

" _I told you, didn't I? She will be on your mind constantly now. Delicious."_

' _I don't think of her like that! I barely know her!'_

" _And when has that stopped you? You barely knew Serana when you first slept with her."_

"Well, I just wanted to let you know we've arrived," the man said, raising his voice over the howling winds from the snowstorm. "Do you want me to wait outside for you?"

"No need," Alana answered, shaking snow out of her soft golden locks and pulling her hood up. "You're free to go at your heart's desire." She leapt from the carriage, her boots muffled thanks to the enchantments, and proceeded on her way into Windhelm.

Coming here to speak to that little Aretino boy seemed so long ago, even though it was only a week since she was last in Ysgramor's city. The heavy gates were guarded by a pair of Stormcloaks, and they didn't even blink twice in the blonde's direction. "Welcome to Windhelm, traveler."

Alana pushed her way through the heavy gates, and felt an immediate surge of anger. One of her kinsman, Rolff Stone-Fist, was tormenting one of the city's Dunmer residents again. _'Bastard. He never learns, does he?'_

It was a pity that the drunk was seemingly under protection at all times, otherwise Alana would have dumped his corpse into the Gray Quarter a long time ago. The racist swine didn't deserve to call himself a Nord. _'It would be so simple. I don't really think anyone would go out of their way to report me for his murder.'_

"Hey, you!" Rolff yelled, seeing the blonde. "Get out of our city, you gray-skin loving whore! You're not welcome here! Go spread your legs somewhere else, elf-loving maggot!"

Alana snapped; the anger she tried hard to keep contained finally boiled over, and she grabbed him by his throat to slam him on the ground. His back snapped upon hitting the hard stone, and he gasped once he realized he was paralyzed. "I-I can't feel my legs! You bitch!"

"No one is going to report me. No one will care that you're dead," Alana hissed, drawing her sword and plunging it into his chest. "And those you torment will rejoice when they find your body." She twisted, leaving a cruel wound in the Nord's chest, and she slowly pulled it out, shaking the blood off of the cold metal. "There will be no Sovngarde for you."

She spat on Rolff's body, stalking away with her rage still boiling inside of her. The vampire's back quivered in excitement, and it took most of her self-control to resist turning into her Vampire Lord form. Changing into the stony monster would do nothing but spread terror and panic, and the last thing she needed was an extended battle while also blood-starved. _'Get a hold of yourself dammit. You only came here because you have to kill a member of the most powerful family in Windhelm, not to start a war.'_

It was a shame, too. The blonde had felt right at home in Ulfric Stormcloak's city; the proud Nordic heritage filled the air, along with the extreme hatred of both the Empire and the Dominion. It wasn't difficult for her to decide to aid Ulfric's rebellion; the Empire had tried to murder her for merely being in the wrong place in the wrong time.

And she was not one to forget grudges.

Alana looked around the streets of Windhelm, stalking like a hungry wolf stalks a rabbit. _'Dammit. Where in Oblivion are you?'_ She hissed in irritation; Nilsine either was already inside, or the vampire was unlucky and just missing her every time she rounded a corner.

She then spotted her target; a young Nordic woman with dark hair carrying a basket filled with mountain flowers. _'There you are.'_ She reached for her sword, only to stop; the girl was already almost at her home, and sneaking up behind her wouldn't be an option. _'A summon is best.'_

She summoned a Bound Sword in her left hand, nearly draining her magicka reserves in the process; even at her peak, Conjuration wasn't her strong suit in magic. She preferred the art and beauty of the School of Illusion. The way she was able to use her power to manipulate the very mind of mortals was thrilling, whether it was making them do her bidding for her to enthrall them or simply vanishing from their very sight.

She grabbed the magical sword by its razor sharp edge, and threw it. The blade spun, and she felt a twinge of accomplishment when it met its target. Nilsine screamed as she crumpled in a heap, the ethereal sword trapped in her back, and Alana vanished from the scene; it would be hard to pin the murder on her thanks to her using magic, but she didn't want to risk being forced to face Ulfric himself; the new High King didn't need to know that the woman who fought by his side was now a vampire and a member of the Dark Brotherhood. _'I can just imagine the disbelief and disappointment on his face. I doubt he'd have any doubts about killing me.'_

She walked through the cold streets of Windhelm and back out of the city. The howling winds coming from the mountains above were stronger, whipping around her and making her hood fall down from her head. Her eyes squinted in the pale light, and one of the guards standing by the gates backed away nervously. "I don't like those eyes of yours. That's a bad hunger in them."

' _Damn. Even these mortal fools can tell I haven't fed in awhile.'_ Alana let the remark slide; there was no point in entertaining her kinsmen, especially when she had a task to complete. _'Don't even bother. Just let it go and get your arse to Raldbthar; the sooner you kill that son of a bitch, the better.'_

Though the blizzard wasn't going to let her use her shape-shifting power easily; the winds were far too strong, and even her eyesight struggled to see in the storm. _'Damn. I have no choice but to use Clear Skies. Once I'm out of eyesight of the guards, that is.'_ Shouting in public view would draw attention, and one of them would recognize her.

That would lead to either a public execution or a duel with Ulfric himself. And in her current state, she doubted she could keep up with someone who too had trained with the Greybeards.

Alana walked over the stony bridge, the icy waters of the River Yorgrim moving slowly below. It was almost relaxing, hearing the water gently lap at the snowy banks bordered by Snowberry plants. _'They never have to worry about anything, apart from being plucked from an alchemist. No need to worry about being starved of blood, or being hunted across the land for false accusations.'_

' _Well. No longer false. I've gone from the Heroine of Skyrim to her harbinger in a few short months. Pathetic.'_

She was out of eyesight of anyone who would recognize her, and she opened her mouth to Shout the blizzard away. **"Lok Vah Koor!"** The blizzard ceased to be, though the cloud cover remained. _'Damn. I guess I'm not back to my peak.'_

Still, it was better than trying to fly in a blizzard.

With the storm gone, she transformed into her crow form, flapping hard. Her wings were still sore from her recent trip to Markarth, and she was thankful that Raldbthar wasn't very far away from the city. The mountains overlooking to the southwest were home to the ruins, and it wouldn't take long for her to reach them even in her current state.

She saw the entrance of the Uttering Hills Camp below, and it did produce a good memory. The old cave was being used by a rival of the Thieves Guild, the Summerset Shadows, and if there was one thing the Guild didn't take kindly to, it was potential rivals sullying their name and reputation. Alana had been sent to destroy the rival guild, and it was quite thrilling for her to show the cowardly Altmer what a real thief was like in; she went in with nothing but her trusty sword, and one by one they fell before her before they even knew what hit them. _'It's been a long time since I've felt joy in doing what I do best. Ever since my exile, I've just been dragging myself along and waiting for a stray arrow to put me out of my misery.'_

The stony and bronze towers of the Dwarven ruins loomed into view, and she flapped harder before landing on the ground about fifty meters from the front steps. Her enhanced made out a bandit standing guard on the first level, and the blonde reached for her sword. The platforms above were perfect for archers to pick her off in a surprise ambush, leaving her only option to use her magic. _'Illusion it is.'_

Alana reached into the pockets of her tight leather pants, only to hiss; she had no invisibility or illusion potions on her. _'Dammit. I was hoping to not have to use the power. But I guess it can't be helped.'_ Being one of Nocturnal's agents, she could use her Shadowcloak power. However, it had its limits; it would deactivate the moment she attacked, meaning she had to be in a damn good position before attacking.

She concentrated, and activated her rarely used Shadowcloak power to turn invisible. It would only last for two minutes at its longest, so she had to move quickly. The vampire dropped into a crouch, and she silently stalked up the steps. Each step was as quiet as she could make it, but her nerves still raced when the bandit started to look around as if he felt her presence. "Hmm. I must be drinking too much ale."

He yawned, and didn't even blink as Alana crept past him and up the stairs towards the entrance.

Two sentries with Dwarven Bows stood guard, and Alana readied her sword. Her power would only last for another thirty seconds at most, and her element of surprise would be lost if she didn't strike soon. _'Turn around, you pathetic excuse for a Nord.'_ She hissed in annoyance; her preferred target wasn't turning around, and she watched herself become visible again. _'Damn. Should've figured.'_

The blonde stood up from her crouch, and leapt at the nearest bandit with a hungry growl. The man didn't even have time to cry out before her cruel sword slashed his chest, leaving a jagged wound. He gurgled, and Alana pushed his corpse aside, dodging a pair of arrows.

Her new enemy was a Redguard, and he was furiously drawing his bowstring back and releasing Orcish arrows as fast as he could. "Ahahaha! You dare to challenge Dufont's bandits!? You'll be a very good trophy for him to sleep with!"

"Like hell I will be," Alana hissed, parrying the arrows loosed at her and closing the distance between them. "I'll die before I let a man touch me." It wasn't strictly true; she did once sleep with a childhood friend back in Cyrodiil, as a birthday present. But the both of them knew it was a one-time thing, never to be repeated, and it didn't change their relationship.

And the blonde knew perfectly well of her sexuality now.

She grabbed the bandit, spun him around, and plunged her sword into his chest, ripping through muscle and coating her blade in blood. Using her strength, she pulled up, nearly slicing the man in two. His corpse tumbled down, blood staining the snow below a sickly crimson.

The final bandit managed to land a hit on her, his arrow piercing her shoulder. "Die, damn you!" Another arrow loosed at her.

Alana hissed in pain, yanking it out and letting her own blood steadily trickle down. It wasn't very deep, and she blocked another two projectiles with her sword. _'Dammit. That's what happens when I get careless.'_

She countered a desperate swing, using the bandit's own momentum against him and tossing him off the stony ledge and onto the ground below. Bones cracked, and it was hard not to wince at the man's screams. _'Back is broken. Amazing how frail we really are.'_

' _Ha. As if you'd be so lucky as to die like that.'_ She scoffed.

Alana spun around on her heel and walked into the ruins.

Inside, the smell of Dwarven oils and the sounds of their machinery bombarded her senses. It was almost overpowering; she could barely smell anything apart from the burnt skeever flesh from a makeshift roast and the oily machinery. _'Ugh. How the hell could anyone live here? It reeks.'_

' _A bit rich, coming from someone who was hiding in a damn cave not too long ago.'_

She spotted a bandit sleeping on a bedroll, and she slit his throat silently. A few gold coins fell out of his fur armor, and she pocketed them before continuing on her way.

She proceeded deeper into the ruins, slitting the throat of another trio of bandits and almost disappointed in how easy it was; the only real challenge she had so far was when she allowed her guard to drop and let an arrow pierce her earlier.

Alana crept down the slick hallways, the floors stained purple with oil, and she finally laid eyes on her target. _'There he is.'_

Alain Dufont was a Breton man wearing finely stitched brown clothes, and he carried a large warhammer. The weapon glowed with enchantments, and either he heard her coming or he was expecting her; he faced her with a sneer on his face, arms folded across his chest. "I have to admit, it's pretty damn impressive that you managed to kill my men and reach me. You definitely had those annoying gods on your side, assassin."

He reached for his hammer, hefting it easily despite its bulk. "Now, as pretty as you are, I'm afraid that you won't be leaving here alive."

Alana readied her sword, spinning it in her hands. "Do you honestly think you can kill me, knowing every last one of your men are dead courtesy of me?" _'He's stronger than he looks. But he doesn't look like he's completely comfortable with that hammer.'_

"Well, we'll see, won't we?" Alain growled. He went to swing, grunting with exertion, and the sound of something breaking reached the vampire's ears.

Alana rolled under the hammer, and she saw the handle was splintering. One strong strike would be enough to break the weapon in two, and leave Dufont defenseless. _'I see it.'_

"Cursed little bitch! Stay still!" Dufont growled angrily as his swings continued to miss. It was so simple for the Dragonborn; all she had to do was avoid getting hit, and the more she continued to evade, the more exhausted her target became. It wouldn't be long before Alain was completely worn out from swinging the hammer; sweat was rolling down his lightly tanned face, and each swing was took longer.

Alain tried to crush her with a vertical strike, and that's when Alana struck; her blade caught the handle, and it splintered in two. Bits of wood peppered Dufont's face, including one stabbing him in the eye.

He fell to his knees with a shrill shriek of pain, and Alana stood over him, golden eyes burning into his own. "This is where you die, Dufont." She swung her sword down through his skull, splitting it down the middle. His body convulsed, and she yanked out her bloodstained sword, watching the bandit leader fall in a bloody heap.

The blonde spun her sword into its holster, spitting on her defeated foe and laughing bitterly. "Should've known better than to fight a walking catastrophe."

She was truly a member of the Dark Brotherhood now. Sithis would be pleased with her work.

 _ **A/N: This was a little difficult, I'll admit. I don't usually do long chapters like this, but all of the main quests for the Dark Brotherhood questline have so much possible content. Especially if you drag everything out XD.**_

 _ **See you!**_


	6. No One's Blessing

_**A/N: Chapter 6, and I think we'll see some more good shit. I really am trying to not take forever with the updates; it's just that I have a lot of fanfiction to work on apart from this. Also, we got new cover art (used in-game footage for it)**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***No One's Blessing***

Alana entered the Sanctuary, having returned from Markarth and received payment for her services to Muiri. The girl had been generous, just like Astrid promised; the blonde had received 1000 septims for killing Dufont, and Muiri gave her an enchanted ring as a bonus for ending Nilsine's life. It would help her with alchemy, one of the shadow arts she didn't excel at, by making any created potions much stronger than normal.

Astrid was waiting for her, one leg propped against the doorway and a dangerous smile on her lips. "Ah, you're back. So, how did your first contract go? Far more thrilling than anything Nazir can through at you, hmm?"

The Dragonborn adverted her gaze; if she looked at the blonde temptress, she was sure she'd attempt to drain her right there. The sweet aroma underneath that tasty skin was unbearable, and she could only see red at the moment. "I did what I had to. Nothing more." _'Dammit. I can't resist much longer. I'm going to break.'_

" _Give in. Sink your fangs into her throat and make her yours,"_ Mephala pressured. _"I can feel the lust building inside you. You want to take her from that pathetic werewolf and make her submit to you."_

"Well, you did the job quite efficiently from what I hear," Astrid smirked. Her expression soon turned serious, and her blue gaze looked concerned. "Now that you're back, I'm afraid I need your help with a more…personal matter."

Alana's face flushed slightly, and she swallowed a lump growing in her throat. "What do you mean?" _'Personal? Surely it couldn't be like that, could it?'_ She wasn't stupid; she knew damn well that the leader and her husband had pretty much divorced at this point, and Astrid had taken quite a bit of a liking to her. Alana could practically smell the woman's desire.

"It's Cicero. To say his behavior since coming here has been erratic is an understatement," Astrid answered. "In the few days you were gone, he's taken to locking himself in the Night Mother's chamber, talking to someone in hushed and excited whispers. Who is he speaking to? What are they talking about? I smell treachery."

Alana was quiet, taking in everything she heard. The thought of another revolt in a guild she was in made too many memories resurface, and she winced as she tried to banish them away. It was far too easy to recall Brynjolf's dagger taking a swipe at her, only for the Nord to meet his end via the Ebony Blade and make Mephala squeal in excitement as his blood restored the blade to its full power. _'No…don't think of that. It's in the past. Let it stay there.'_

"You must understand," Astrid urged. "If Cicero is plotting something, it could bring about madness for us. And I think we can both agree that little jester has brought more than enough madness here."

"So what do you want me to do? Kill him?" Alana finally spoke. _'Of course you'd think that, wouldn't you? You're not a hero. You never were. All you are is a murdering bitch who knows only how to kill, steal, and lie.'_

"No. Only if you have proof that he is conspiring against me," Astrid said firmly. "I can tell you'd love to rip his throat out, by the way your eyes are burning. But, killing him right now would anger our Dread Father greatly, if he hasn't done anything. What I need is for you to be my eyes and ears when Cicero goes and meets with whoever he's speaking with. There's no use sticking to the shadows, either; Cicero is a master of stealth himself, and you'd be spotted. Hmm…a perfect place to hide would be the Night Mother's coffin. He'd never think to look there."

Alana blinked in surprise; the idea of pressing herself up against the corpse of an old woman wasn't a pleasant one, and not just because of the potential disrespectfulness of the action. Mummified bodies weren't something she liked to be around, due to her experience in fighting hordes of Draugr in the ancient Nordic ruins that dotted Skyrim. The smell of rotting flesh and the way they rasped out at her in the dragon tongue certainly had a way of cementing itself in her mind. "Is that disrespectful?"

"In this case, no," Astrid replied, though the slight hesitation suggested even she had second thoughts about it. "The last thing we need is for some damn clown to start the fire of a revolution here. Go, before they meet. Tell me everything you can once you're done."

Alana nodded, thankful that she didn't have to look at the blonde any longer; she was starting to get a little twitchy, and she tried to keep herself under composure for at least a little while longer in spite of the burning hunger that gnawed away like a ravenous fox. Her throat was parched, and she was starting to feel other effects from her starvation. Her temples started to throb, and her joints ached. It was a slow and dull pain, and she honestly didn't know how much longer she could last. _'Dammit. I really am not going to last, am I?'_ Her vision grew hazy for a moment, and she wondered if she'd fall over. _'Don't you dare. Fight how you feel with everything you have. You can resist the temptation.'_

" _You're showing more resistance than usual,"_ Mephala pouted. _"Don't you know it's not anywhere near as fun when you refuse to give in?"_

' _To Oblivion with you! Why do you insist on tormenting me!?'_ Alana's anger was slowly reaching its boiling point, and her vampiric blood surged eagerly. _'Stalk some pathetic Imperial! Bed a damn Dunmer! Just leave me alone!'_

" _Desperation is ugly, isn't it?"_ Mephala laughed. _"Don't you know I'd much rather see you squirm and struggle between choosing lovers? Or even better, you don't select just one. You choose both of them. Mmm, imagine it, dear. Astrid's tongue circling around your soft lips while Serana's fingers plunge into you. You'd be a horrible liar if you said you didn't want it. The image will soon be burned into your mind, and receiving their intimate touches will soon be all that floods your thoughts.'_

Alana's face heated up. She did find her mistress attractive. The fullness of her lips, the gentle sway of her hips as she walked, that silky tone, the soft breasts straining to be released from their prison. The intimate parts that rested between her beautiful thighs and begged to be touched in the most delicate and loving of ways…

By Sithis, now she was beginning to think of the dangerous blonde sexually.

She felt an unfamiliar wetness begin to sting the corners of her golden eyes, and she scrunched them with a choked sob, her knees wobbling. The thought of betraying Serana in that way distressed her, and she hung her head in her own mental despair. _'No. I refuse to believe that bitch is right. It's just my imagination, it's just my imagination…'_

" _Keep lying to yourself, if it'll help you sleep at night."_ Mephala's wet tongue circled around the blonde vampire's neck, pressing against the sensitive skin at the very base. _"But I know better. I know what that undead heart of yours yearns for. You want both of them to take you; claim you for themselves. Have them bed you like a common wench and turn you into a moaning mess."_

' _ENOUGH!'_ Alana placed her hands over her ears, unshed tears stinging her eyes as the Daedra's lustful laughter filled her head. She sank to her knees, eyes brimming. _'Just stop it!'_

That sick, perverted laughter rang in her ears, and Alana ran with her arm covering her face. She wasn't looking where she was going, and she bumped into the one person she wanted comfort from more than anyone.

Serana was immediately concerned when she saw the state she was in, and she held her close. "Alana? What's—"

Alana silenced her with a teary kiss, letting the liquid spill from her guilty orbs and trickle down her pale cheeks. "I'm sorry….I'm so, so sorry." _'You disgusting, lying harlot. You emotionally betrayed the one person who always stood by you. You don't deserve her love. You have brought her nothing but despair and hardship.'_

"What are you sorry for? By the blood, what's going on?" Serana's hand cupped her cheek, trying to make the blonde look at her. "You're not usually like this."

Alana's body shook, and she kept her guilty and watery gaze on the floor. "Y-you wouldn't understand…just now that I'm sorry. I never wanted this to happen." _'Why!? Why did it have to be this way!? Why do I feel the same way towards Astrid as I do Serana? This isn't right!'_

' _You damn filthy whore!'_

"Sorry for what, Alana? By the gods, what in the name of Oblivion is wrong?" Serana's hand wiped the tears from her cheeks, the other under her chin. "I've seen you distressed before, but not like this."

Alana swallowed, trying to calm her shaking body. "Serana…do you remember how I was around you the first few weeks of knowing you? Unsure whether I was drawn to you romantically or just for lust's sake?"

"Of course I remember. You couldn't keep your eyes off of me," Serana replied. Her eyes began to glimmer with reminiscence. "It drove you insane for weeks until you decided to claim me. Why?"

Alana looked away, a pair of salty tears snaking their way down her face, and she hung her head in despair. "i…I don't know how to say this…but I think it's resurfacing. Gods, I feel like such a whore now." _'Unfaithful bitch. Serana would be better off if she never met you. Everyone would be.'_

' _Why haven't you dropped dead yet? You'd be doing Tamriel a favor.'_

"Towards Astrid, right?" Serana asked quietly.

The question made Alana jump, and she looked at her with wide eyes. "W-what? How did…?"

Serana sighed, putting her hand on the blonde vampire's shoulder and rubbing it. "Because I think it's happening to me, too. Damn it all to Coldharbour. Two pureblooded vampire lovers falling for the same woman. Talk about a terrible romance novel. I doubt even the Bard's College would read it."

Alana wiped her eyes, her hair falling down her face. "So, what do you suppose we do?" _'Act on our lust like we did? Or not do anything until we're sure this is how we feel? By Talos this is maddening.'_

"For now, nothing," Serana answered. "At least until we can make sure this is reality and not a figment of our imagination produced by our lust for her blood. I know you can smell just how sweet it is, too."

Alana gave her a quiet nod in response. _'So it seems both of us are attracted to her blood. Dammit. So much hoping that being an assassin would make things easier on us.'_ "Okay. I have something I need to do, too…"

She had yet to actually have a conversation with Cicero. But she couldn't help but feel as though Astrid was right; the man was up to something. One simply didn't lock himself in a room in the middle of the night and speak in those sorts of hushed tones unless they were plotting to betray their fellow assassins. _'I don't like the sound of this. Things like this happen to be the very first few signs of an uprising.'_

"Alana…be careful, okay?"

"No promises," the blonde replied gloomily, adjusting her cape. _'Be careful…yeah, right. I'll be sure to get right on it. I'm a walking disaster in a den of killers and spying on a lunatic. There's no such thing as being careful.'_

She walked through the Sanctuary, the torches flickering as she passed them. Their gentle light cast her shadow onto the stony ground, and she relished in its twisted beauty. _'When most lay eyes on me, they see nothing more than a Nord girl with unusual eyes. They don't know of the horror in front of them.'_

The blonde pulled out a lockpick as she approached the Night Mother's coffin. The pick was inserted, and she slowly turned it. It unlocked with a satisfying click, and the heavy casket opened up to reveal the Night Mother's corpse within. Her decayed eyes seemed to glow with malice, and Alana swallowed before stepping into it and closing the casket behind her. And she wasn't a moment too soon.

She heard Cicero enter the room with a hum, and she repressed a shudder as she heard his voice. _'Dear Talos, this man is deranged.'_

"Are we…alone? Yes…hahahaha, yes! Sweet solitude! No one will hear us, disturb us. I've spoken to the others, and they are coming around. The lizard, Festus Krex, and even our delicious-looking mistress," Cicero giggled. "What about you? Have you…spoken to anyone? No…no, I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and the saying! And what do you do, hmm? Nothing! Not…not that I'm angry. No, never. Cicero understands. Heh…Cicero always understands! And obeys! You'll talk when you want to, won't you…sweet Night Mother?"

Alana felt a shiver crawl up her spine. So, Cicero wasn't talking to anyone else; just the Night Mother. While it was a bit of a relief to know that there wasn't a conspiracy to take down the Brotherhood from within, the tone of Cicero's voice as he talked to the Night Mother was enough to creep her out. _'Dear Talos. This man is deranged.'_

The vampire then heard an old, rasping voice in her ear. _"Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a loyal and humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener."_

' _What the hell was that!?'_ Alana struggled to reach her sword, and she looked at the Night Mother's glowing eyes. _'Did…did the corpse just talk?'_

Outside, Cicero pouted like a child. "Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will? If you will not speak to anyone!?"

" _Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you,"_ the same rasping voice whispered. _"For you are the one. Yes, you. You, who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task: journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre."_

' _By Talos, it is! The bloody Night Mother is talking to me.'_ Alana swallowed, her heart thumping in her chest painfully. She knew the history of the Brotherhood from the various tomes lying around the Sanctuary. While not what one would consider an expert on the subject, the vampire knew that the Night Mother would only commune with the one who was named the Listener.

Part of her wanted to let out a bitter laugh. _'Of course. That would be my luck, wouldn't it? Hero of Skyrim, fallen from grace, and now the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Why? Why am I always the chosen one? Can't it be someone else for once?'_

"Poor Cicero has failed you," the insane Imperial simpered. "Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet mother. I've tried, so very hard. But I just can't find the Listener!"

" _Tell Cicero the time has come,"_ the Night Mother ordered. _"Tell him the words he has been waiting for, all these years: Darkness rises when silence dies."_

The blonde barely had enough time to hear the words before the iron casket fell open and she stumbled out. The hinges had given out courtesy of her bad luck, and she was right on display for Cicero. And by Sithis was he infuriated. His eyes were little beads, and his high-pitched voice was thick with rage. "What!? What treachery! Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin! Explain yourself! Speak, worm!"

"The Night Mother spoke to me," Alana answered quietly, avoiding looking at his exposed throat. "She said 'I am the one'." _'Dammit! I didn't notice my power was affecting the casket. Typical carelessness.'_

"She…spoke to you? More treachery!" Cicero hissed in response, his hand slowly creeping towards his Ebony Dagger. "More trickery and deceit! You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener, not some vampire harlot! And there is no Listener!"

"Wait!" Alana let the familiar insult brush over her; she was used to taunts from those who had their dreams of bedding her ruined. "She said to tell you, 'Darkness rises when silence dies'."

Cicero's eyes were wide in shock, and he stumbled back in awe. "She…she said that? She said those words…to you? 'Darkness rises when silence dies'? But those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero…"

He began to laugh and dance, clapping as he did. "Then…it is true! She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! Hahaha! All hail the Listener!"

The door to the room burst open, and in ran Astrid. The blonde leader's gaze was fiery as she approached Cicero, her own dagger tightly grasped in her hand. "By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you've been planning is over!"

She turned to Alana, concern briefly flickering over her face. "Are you alright? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where's the accomplice? Reveal yourself, traitor!"

"I spoke only to the Night Mother!" Cicero defended himself with a toothy grin, having finally stopped dancing. "I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn't speak to me. Oh no. She spoke only to her. To the Listener! Our Lady chose her!"

He gestured towards Alana, and the blonde vampire looked away as Astrid began to drag her away from the psychotic clown. Once out of earshot, she put her hand on Alana's shoulder. The slight touch produced a tingle that shot down her spine, and she tried to resist looking into those captivating eyes when she spoke. "When I heard Cicero screaming, I knew you'd been discovered. I feared the worst. Are you alright?"

' _Concentrate, dammit!'_ "I'm fine," Alana answered, trying to fight the temptation to just _claim_ her.

"Then what in Sithis' name is going on? Cicero spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke to you? Is this just more of the fool's rambling?"

"It's true. The Night Mother spoke to me. She said I was 'the one'."

"What? So Cicero wasn't talking to anyone else. Just…the Night Mother's body? And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener…just spoke. Right now…to you?" Astrid asked. There was some shock in her gaze, but also some understanding, as if she knew something Alana didn't.

Alana nodded. The Night Mother's low menacing voice was fresh in her ears, and it still produced unpleasant feelings in her body. The way it managed to still be full of the same power and malice even centuries after decomposition chilled her. Combined with the strange primal urges hungrily eating away, she was sure her discomfort showed.

"By Sithis," Astrid muttered. "What did she say?"

"I need to speak with someone named Amaund Motierre, in Volunruud," Alana replied, shifting her torn cape. _'That name seems somewhat familiar. I know it from somewhere. But where? Back in Cyrodiil? Or with the Thieves Guild?'_

"Amaund Motierre?" Astrid queried. "I have no idea who that is. But Volunruud, that I know of. It's an ancient Nordic burial crypt, to the north of Whiterun Hold."

"Should I go and meet them, then?"

"Hmm…" Astrid pursed her lips, and she shook her head. "No. I respect the Night Mother, but I need to make sure you really are the Listener. Find Nazir. Do a few jobs for him. I'll talk to you once those are done."

She turned to leave, and Alana looked to see Cicero had disappeared too. Nothing remained, but the glowing eyes of the Night Mother.

"Why? Why did you choose me?" _'I hate this. I always end up being chosen as an organization's supposed savior, and I lead them to destruction.'_

' _I'm not a savior. I'm no one's blessing.'_

Nazir better have some good jobs lined up for her. She could use a bit of a thrill after the events that just transpired

* * *

Astrid paced back and forth in her quarters, almost unable to hide her excitement. _'Finally! Everything Lucien said is coming true! Follow the Old Ways, and Tamriel will again fear and respect the Dark Brotherhood.'_

The blonde had a feeling Alana would end up Listener, just by the way Lucien spoke so highly of her. The spectral assassin constantly showered her in praise, saying how she reminded him of the Listener he recruited and trained before his untimely death. Lucien was not an easy man to impress; he was very hard to please and didn't tolerate failure.

But Alana did it.

"Lucien? What are your thoughts about the situation?" Astrid asked.

The spectral assassin shifted in his ghostly robes, pulling his hood down to reveal his transparent yet handsome face. _"Our Father has spoken. The woman is indeed the true Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. I had a very good feeling it would be her."_

"You knew?"

" _Not for certain, dear sister,"_ Lucien said truthfully. _"And though it is a blessing to have such a powerful woman be our Listener, tread carefully. She's hiding something. Something even I cannot put my finger on. She is not a woman to cross, and is very, very dangerous. There's a reason why she is capable of transforming into a bird with wings of the darkest night, and it isn't because she's a vampire, or carrying the blood of Akatosh in her veins."_

"Just how powerful is she?" Astrid was curious about the power the moody blonde vampire actually wielded. She gave off the aura of a deadly fighter, but one who despised fighting and preferred to avoid confrontation if possible.

" _Far stronger than those of the dragon blood of past ages,"_ Lucien answered silkily. _"A true master of every discipline. She might be a slender woman, but underneath the flesh is a warrior not even Arnbjorn can match in terms of raw physical power. Haven't you noticed she carries a greatsword in one hand and wields it with remarkable speed? Name one other person in Skyrim who can do that."_

Though Alana was mainly seen with a one-handed sword, she did seem very comfortable with a wide variety of weapons, including greatswords. She was one who could utilize stealth one moment, and charge headfirst into bloodshed in the blink of an eye. _'Dangerous. And beautiful. What a fetching prize she is.'_

"I can't," Astrid admitted. "By Sithis, we have ourselves quite the catch, don't we?" _'And one I'm feeling a very strange pull towards. Curious.'_

She didn't reveal her lust towards the vampire, but she could see that the moody woman's eyes burned with the exact same emotion on top of her bloodlust. Sooner or later, one of them was going to crack. And when they did, the results were going to be both scandalous and delicious.

Astrid folded her hands and watched as Alana left the Sanctuary. The new Listener was carrying her heavy Ebony Greatsword on her back, one hand resting on its handle, and the blonde leader smirked when she heard the door close. "Lucien, my dearest brother?"

" _Yes, mistress?"_

"Do me a personal favor and keep a very, very close eye on her," Astrid requested.

" _As you command."_ Lucien's body vanished into the Void, and Astrid shut the door to her chambers again, pulling the dark red curtains across it. She opened her desk and found what she was looking for, a single smooth and dulled horker tusk.

"Hehe. Now this…this is where the fun really begins."

Her armor was going to be a pain getting off in a hurry.

 _ **A/N: And that's all I have for this one. With quite a few non-canonical events happening (the Thieves Guild being destroyed, etc.), one might be wondering how the fuck I'm going to do the small mission where the Dragonborn gets the Elder Council Amulet identified. Well don't worry; I have an OC to fill in that role and will be introduced next chapter (I think). See you!**_

 _ **Discord: DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE #5371**_


	7. Rain

_**A/N: Hello all, chapter 7 of this Skyrim fic. I'm pleased to announce that things will start to get more intimate very soon. I know, seven fucking chapters and I haven't even really gotten to the good shit yet. Feel free to yell at me XD**_

 _ **Also, an original character does make his appearance this chapter.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Rain***

Alana sighed as she walked through the pine forest of Falkreath. Her last two contracts for Nazir had taken her a few days to complete, and she was glad to be back in the hold. Even if the skies opened up upon her arrival.

The first contract given to her, killing a talentless excuse of a bard named Lorbuk in the city of Morthal, provided very little excitement. Nazir wasn't kidding when he said the Orc was by far the worst bard in all of Skyrim and everyone wanted him dead; the idiot tried to charm her with possibly the worst song her ears ever had the misfortune of hearing, and even the innkeeper pointedly turned her back when she saw the blonde reach for her sword.

The second contract though was much more exciting. Her target was a fellow vampire named Hern, and the man provided a better fight than Alana initially anticipated; the edge of his axe did manage to cut through part of her armor, tearing the flesh underneath the tight leather. The wound was shallow, but the blonde's pride as a fighter was damaged somewhat; she hated that a weak vampire of Hern's standing was capable of landing a blow on her, when she had fought through entire legions of Imperial soldiers without so much as a scratch on her.

With one hand on her greatsword's handle and getting wet from the rain, she found herself more at ease once the Sanctuary's black entrance loomed into view. The dark flowers of nightshade that were blooming around the shadowy pool outside it were beautiful, the silky petals glistening with droplets of crystal clear water. _'Beautiful, but deadly. Fits the flower and two members of the Sanctuary.'_

She had hoped that her two contracts would help clear her head when it came to dealing with the emotions that ravaged her mind. The feelings that surfaced whenever she thought of Astrid made her want to scream at the heavens in frustration, for she didn't know how to deal with them. Her urges seemed to be more than that of common lust; rather, they were that of longing. _'Why!? Why do I have to feel like this towards her!?'_

The black door swung open when Alana approached, and the vampire was immediately met by Astrid. _'Dammit. Not now.'_

"We need to talk," the blonde leader said assertively.

Alana remained quiet, trying to fight the hunger and desire that boiled in her core. _'I'm not going to last!'_

"Look, you are now the Listener," Astrid said. "And if you were told by the Night Mother to go to Volunruud, we'd be fools to ignore it. I'd say you go. Speak to this Amaund Motierre."

"Anything else you want?" Alana asked quietly, focusing her gaze on the floor to avoid staring at her mistress's body.

"Yes…there is." Astrid began to smirk in a dangerously seductive manner and strutted towards her. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Alana's body began to get very hot, and her pulse quickened when Astrid's hand touched her pale cheek. "I…I…"

The simple touch provided a spark, and her stomach churned. Her insides quivered in anticipation, and her eyes widened in shock when Astrid's lips hovered precariously close to hers. _'She can't be serious! Is she really going to do what I think she is!?'_

" _What are you waiting for, girl?"_ Mephala taunted. _"You know you want to. Your heart is yearning for her to push you against the wall and capture your lips with her own. Maybe slip her fingers between your legs to satisfy that ever-voracious sexual appetite of yours too, hmm?"_

' _Go away!'_ Alana really despised the damn Daedric Prince during moments like these.

Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst, and she felt both relieved and disappointed when Astrid backed away from her and let her hand fall from its place. The blonde leader turned away with a soft chuckle, giving her an amused half-lidded stare. "I'll let you figure it out yourself, dear."

She headed into her own chambers, shutting the door behind her, and Alana rested against the cool stony wall. She was breathing heavily, and she tried to calm her racing nerves. The woman's mere presence was enough to drive her crazy with desire, and the vampire didn't know how she managed to resist claiming her for her own. _'Madness. This is utter madness. It's as if she's aware I'm lusting for her.'_

She wouldn't deny it; Astrid was very attractive. But if there was one thing the vampire knew, it was that she didn't want Astrid to get close to her. Being the walking disaster she was, it would only lead to pain and suffering, and Alana had seen enough of both to last a lifetime. _'Even if this is more than lust, you can't afford to get close to her, and you know it. So get those damn thoughts out of your head.'_

She sighed and headed off on her own way to talk to Nazir about payment for the two contracts she just completed. The money provided was more than enough for the low-risk assassinations, and like Nazir promised, they kept her busy.

The Redguard was waiting for her in the back of the Sanctuary, and he was drinking some fine wine from a silver goblet. "Please tell me that Lorbuk is dead."

Alana nodded quietly, and Nazir let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Sithis. The only good bard is a dead one, as far as I'm concerned. All that singing and mirth gets under my skin. And no sarcastic remark on your killing of Hern. It's not easy to kill one of your kind, you know."

He handed over the gold, and before the blonde could finish pocketing it, he leaned forward with curiosity. "While you were gone…I happened to overhear a little conversation that damn jester had with Festus. Apparently, you're our new Listener. This is interesting news."

"What's it to you?" Alana growled, her right hand never leaving the handle of her heavy sword.

"Before the arrival of you and Serana," he began, "this Sanctuary was a mess. We had abandoned the Old Ways. Astrid was becoming increasingly more frustrated. Gold wasn't piling in as quickly as it used to, and the Initiates we had were far too…unsavory, so to speak. It looked like the Dark Brotherhood, the family that saved me from myself, was doomed to fall. And then, I hear the news of a vampiric Nightingale who slaughtered Grelod the Kind, and suddenly our fortunes turn with your arrival."

"What are you trying to say, Nazir?"

"Nothing," he answered, casually smirking. "But do be careful around Astrid. Someone we both know isn't going to be very pleased if they suspect she's having an affair with a vampire."

He didn't say who, but Alana knew damn well who he was talking about; she felt his piercing glare on her every time their paths met. _'You're not talking about Serana. You're talking about that damned werewolf.'_

Arnbjorn always stared at her with pure venom in his eyes, especially when he saw her interact with Astrid. Hatred, jealousy, and anger were permanent fixtures in his cold glare, and yet he never said a word to her. There simply wasn't a need to; the ancient feud between their kind reached a new level, and both understood why.

And yet, despite the disgust the two had for each other, neither raised a blade to the other. It was as if they were playing a game to see who would make the first move and snap.

' _Ha. As if I'd let such a filthy creature lay a single claw on me.'_ Alana scoffed. Dispatching Arnbjorn in combat wouldn't be easy due to his inhuman strength, but her unnatural speed was greater than his, and her overall fighting capabilities were far superior to the werewolf's. _'His body might be bigger, but he's slow with that rusty battleaxe of his; I could decapitate him before he even finishes a swing.'_

And yet as much as Alana would love to have an opportunity to get rid of him, she knew that the Five Tenants prohibited it unless Arnbjorn turned out to be a traitor to the Brotherhood. _'For now, do nothing. It's not worth the hassle.'_

She frowned, thinking about the name of the person the Night Mother told her to meet. _'Amaund Motierre…'_

' _Dammit, why does it sound so familiar?'_

* * *

Alana panted for breath as she rested her heavy sword on her shoulder. Just trying to find the damn ruins was bad enough; she was a whole two holds away from Falkreath and now in The Pale with a heavy blizzard on the way. The snow was beginning to fall, and she doubted she could manage to clear it with Clear Skies if it started to get as heavy as she thought it would.

And upon her entry to the ancient Nordic tomb, she was immediately ambushed by a skeleton intent on separating her head from the rest of her body. One swing of her claymore was enough to reduce it to a pile of dusty old bones, and it tired her out. She was worn out, partially from her lack of feeding and partially from the long journey that took an hour.

The vampire leaned against the stony wall, pushing her hair back with a free hand. _'Come on, pull yourself together. You came all this way to find the bastard. You can make it a little further.'_

She shook her head and headed deeper into the tomb, turning to her left and bristling when she saw a Breton man and an Imperial soldier standing guard. _'Is this an ambush!?'_

Alana was prepared to draw her sword and cut the Imperial coward down when the Breton opened his mouth. "By the almighty Divines. You've come. You've actually come. This dreaded Black Sacrament thing…it worked."

Alana released the grip on her sword, no longer tense when she realized Motierre wasn't a threat or trying to ambush her. "The Night Mother has heard your pleas, Motierre."

"Yes, um…so it would seem," he replied, looking a little uneasy when he made eye contact with her. "Well, I won't waste your time. I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually. I daresay, the work I'm offering has more significance than anything your organization has experienced in, well, centuries."

"Go on." Alana folded her arms.

"As I said, I want you to kill several people," Amaund started to explain. "You'll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied."

He began to smirk, as if the thought of cutting lives short appealed to him in a sickeningly twisted way. "I'm sure someone of your disposition will probably even find it enjoyable. But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end. For they pave the way to the most important target. The real reason I'm speaking with a cutthroat in the bowels of this detestable crypt. For I seek the assassination of…the Emperor."

"Leaders rise and fall. Business is business." Alana shrugged, trying to not show much emotion in regards to hearing the shocking revelation. _'By the gods, he wants the Brotherhood to kill the Emperor!? But they haven't tried that since Pelagius!'_ It certainly was ambitious beyond her imaginings.

"Oh, wonderful," Amaund said, sighing in relief. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that."

He began to rub his dainty hands gleefully, as if he could see the dead corpse of the Emperor already before him. "So much has led to this day. So much planning, and maneuvering. It's as if the very stars have finally aligned. But I digress. Here, take these to your, um…superior."

He beckoned with his hand to the Imperial guard standing behind him. "Rexus. The items."

The Imperial soldier handed her a note and a jeweled amulet, his eyes betraying nothing. "Here."

"The sealed letter will explain everything that needs to be done. The amulet is quite valuable. You can use it to pay for any and all expenses," Motierre informed.

Alana nodded, pocketing the note and looking over the amulet with a curious glint in her eyes as she started to leave. It was quite pretty, and didn't doubt Motierre's claim that it was valuable. But just how much was it really worth? _'Curious…'_

And why the hell did it seem so familiar to her?

* * *

Once Alana made her way back to the Sanctuary, she saw Astrid waiting for her. The blonde woman was standing behind her large desk, and she looked up upon hearing the vampire's footsteps. "Did you speak with Motierre? What did he want?"

"He…he wants us to kill the Emperor," Alana answered.

"You're joking, right?" Astrid raised an eyebrow in skepticism, clearly not believing her.

"I wish." Alana reached into the pockets of her tight armor and fished out both the amulet and the note the Breton noble gave to her.

"What's this?"

"The letter explains it all. The amulet is for expenses."

"By Sithis, you're not joking." Astrid took both items, letting her fingertips gently brush the palm of Alana's exposed hands. She noticed the slight shiver the vampire gave at her touch and smirked. "To kill an Emperor of Tamriel…the Dark Brotherhood hasn't done something like that since the assassination of Pelagius. In fact, no one has dared to attempt to assassinate an Emperor since the murder of Uriel Septim, and that was over two hundred years ago."

"We'll accept it?" Alana asked.

Astrid let out a laugh. "You're damn right we'll accept it. If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood with have gained a respect and fear we haven't had in centuries. Do you think I'll abandon a chance to lead this Family to glory? But there's so much planning to do. I need to read this letter, understand where we need to go from here. And this amulet…hmm."

She frowned, observing it with a curious glint in her eye. "I think we need to learn just how valuable this pretty little item is. how much it's worth, and if we can actually get away with selling it. But with my fence Delvin Mallory dead and the Thieves Guild in ruins, I don't know anyone else who can give me the information I need. Do you know anyone?"

A name suddenly popped into Alana's head. "Yes. Saoron. He's a Breton, and lives on the island of Solstheim." _'He'd know. He knew everything that went on in the Imperial City; he has more information about what moves on the streets than the rats themselves. If anyone can tell us what this damned amulet is worth, it's him.'_

"Saoron? I've never heard that name. Are you sure we can trust him?" Astrid asked.

Alana nodded. "If there's one person apart from Serana I can trust not to betray me, it's him. We grew up together." _'He'd never betray me. He's loyal to those he's close to.'_

Saoron was Alana's closest friend when she still remained in the Imperial City. The two were as thick as thieves, often getting into minor mischief together as children and even into their teenage years. However, once Saoron became of age, he packed his bags and left the province for the Dunmer colony of Solstheim, an island to the northeast of Skyrim and very close to the island of Vvardenfell.

"Very well then." Astrid opened up the letter and started to read. "I'm sending you out there. Find out what he knows, and come right back. We'll begin preparing immediately."

"Understood."

Alana found a scroll of parchment and a quill, dipping the end of it in ink and writing out a letter to her old friend. _'It's best if I send him a message ahead of time. Just showing up without warning can lead to some complications, and I don't want to drag him into my own mess.'_

Once her letter was finished, she sealed with a few drops of wax from one of the many candles lying around the Sanctuary, and she pulled her hood up over her head. "I'll be back as soon as I can, with the information we need."

"Alana, be careful out there." Astrid let a look of concern flash across her features. "Solstheim is a dangerous place, from what I hear, and populated mostly by Dark Elves who worship the Tribunal. They might not take too kindly to you."

Alana understood the hidden message. The Tribunal consisted of the Daedric Princes Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala, and as a vampire she was one of Molag Bal's creations. Boethiah despised everything the Lord of Domination stood for, and so did her followers. If news about her being a vampire broke out during her brief stay on Solstheim, all hell could easily break loose. _'I'll have to be very careful not to reveal what I am.'_

For her, being careful was far easier said than actually done. _'Me, careful? Ha. I couldn't be even if my own damned life depended on it.'_

" _You are though. You're being so careful as to not stay around Astrid too long, it's boring me."_ Mephala pouted like an Imperial noble who had been spoiled since they were a child. _"I don't understand why you keep lying to yourself like this, girl."_

' _Because now isn't the damned time,'_ Alana thought back angrily. She left the Sanctuary behind and started to make the quick walk over to the Dead Man's Drink in Falkreath. _'I haven't fed properly in who knows how long, and that alone is puts her in serious danger.'_

" _You're no fun at all."_ Mephala let out a dramatic sigh. _"Talk about dull and predictable. I thought learning of the plot to kill Titus Mede II would have sparked something inside you."_

' _Why would it?'_

" _Well, he is the one who abolished Talos worship throughout the Empire, isn't he?"_ Mephala pointed out. _"Think of it as a quest for revenge for daring to deny you your gods and heritage. He bowed before the Thalmor like a coward."_

Alana's blood began to boil at the mention of the Aldmeri Dominion. Their arrogance alone was enough to make her hate them, but for them to have the sheer audacity to try and tell her that Talos was only a mere human and declare war on those who worshipped him like the god he was…

 _That_ was made her hate them the most. They killed her parents and made her run up to her homeland, thinking they had won.

And yet, they didn't realize all they did was push her into the arms of Skyrim's true High King, Ulfric Stormcloak. Standing at his side, she slew any who dared to try and get in the way of her personal vendetta against the Dominion. She cut a bloody swathe through countless Imperial troops, winning battles with the fury of a vengeful goddess and the power of the Thu'um at her disposal.

And she wouldn't stop until every last Thalmor soldier, mage, and ambassador was dead. And yet, there was still one thing standing between her revenge and her.

Titus Mede II. The cowardly puppet of the Thalmor.

But, she couldn't do it alone. Even with her current arsenal of weapons, her Ebony Greatsword was nowhere near powerful enough to complete such a monumental task as wiping out the Dominion.

No, she needed something else. Something bigger, sharper, and heavier. _'I'll need that one. The sword forged by my own father.'_

Her father was a respected blacksmith and soldier, the finest smith in the Imperial Legion during his service. He forged an all manner of weapons, from warhammers to axes and maces. His finest work, however, was a giant claymore that he called Requiem. The blade was more than six feet long and a foot thick, making it impractically heavy to everyone but the strongest of warriors. However, no man that tried to heft the large blade was capable of wielding it. Orc Chieftains, Imperial Captains, and mercenary leaders all tried, only for their arms to give out on them.

But Alana wasn't a normal person. Her vampirism gave her incredible physical strength, and her dragon blood gave her additional power. _'I never even tried to lift it, even when it was only starting to be built. Father told me I could, when the time was right. Is this that time, Father?'_

But, Requiem wasn't in either Cryodiil or Skyrim. Instead, the blade was smuggled out by Saoron, who had since hidden it on a request from Alana before she left the Imperial City. Only he knew where the blade was, giving her another reason to want to visit him on Solstheim.

Alana walked into the inn, her hood covering her eyes to not alarm the local drunkards. The innkeeper was wiping the counter with a rag, and she looked uneasily at the blonde.

"W-what can I get for you?" Her voice quivered with fear, and Alana pulled out the letter she had written.

"I need a letter delivered to someone in Solstheim. See to it at once," Alana replied. She placed a small bag of gold and the letter on the counter, and let her eyes peek out from under her hood. "And a bottle of Nord mead."

"As you wish, ma'am."

"Thank you."

She was starting to like the feel of alcohol burning her throat.

* * *

Saoron let out a heavy breath as he took a seat at one of the many tables in The Retching Netch Corner Club, the only inn in the small Dunmer colony of Raven Rock. The Breton man had been fighting those cursed beings known as Ash Spawn with the Redoran Guard all day, and it took many long hours to push back the constant onslaught. _'Damn things are harder to kill than I thought.'_

Captain Veleth, the commander of the Redoran Guard in Raven Rock, came in and handed him a Glass Sword. "Here you are, friend. Councilor Arano asked me to make sure you got this as a reward for your service in assisting the Redoran Guard."

Saoron took the blade, nodding in approval. "I see it's Glover's work. Thank you, Captain. Let's hope the damn Ash Spawn don't attack for a few days and the men can get some much-needed rest; there are a lot of wounds to heal."

His prowess in the Restoration School was a blessing for the elite soldiers on the island; the constant attacks from the Ash Spawn meant more and more wounded soldiers, and the brunette Breton was only too happy to offer his healing services as well as his blade.

"You and me both," Veleth chuckled. "Well, I must be off. Patrols to organize, weapons to sharpen. Makes me resent being commander occasionally."

Saoron laughed, and he removed his Dwarven Sword from the belt on his steel armor and replaced it with the new weapon. "Balanced, lightweight, and sharp." _'Perfectly made. Old Glover may be part of the now-defunct Thieves Guild, but he certainly is a master with the hammer and anvil. He's a vital citizen here.'_

He pulled off his steel gauntlets, resting them on the table, and looked up when he heard footsteps running towards him. It was a courier, and the Imperial man looked exhausted. "I've got a letter for you."

Saoron's eyebrow rose. "From who?" _'Who'd be sending me a letter? Father, perhaps? But he doesn't even know where I went.'_

"Dunno. Blonde woman, huge sword," the courier replied, leaning over and gasping for breath. "Told me to make sure it got into your hands."

He handed over the letter, and Saoron opened it up to read its contents. _'Saoron, I have something that requires your expertise. I'm coming to Raven Rock in a few days; make sure we're alone.'_ He recognized the strange bird mark on the bottom of the letter, and knew who it was from.

' _Alana? I've been wondering what happened to her. Glad to know the girl's alive.'_ Saoron folded it and slid it into one of the compartments in his armor. "Thank you for delivering this."

He stood up and approached the innkeeper Geldis, who was wiping out a glass with a cloth. "Geldis, I need a favor."

"Ah, Master Saoron. What can I do for you?" the Dunmer asked.

The Breton glanced around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Can you close the bar early three days from now? Don't worry about your losses; I have enough gold to cover them." _'If Alana needs information, it's something that isn't for everyone's ears. Makes me wonder what in Oblivion she managed to get her hands on.'_

"Sure. But why, if you don't mind me asking?" Geldis asked curiously.

"…let's just say an old friend has something not for everyone's ears."

"I understand." Geldis nodded, and Saoron walked out of the corner club to see a single crow waiting for him on the roof of Glover's forge. He brushed a few of his brown locks aside, raising his hand and letting the bird land on his hand.

"It's certainly been a long time, Alana."

 _ **A/N: That's all for this one. I know, some of you are getting your pitchforks and torches and demanding I make smut already. Well…patience, I promise we'll have some soon, okay? Put down the torches…(ducks one thrown at me) That's the opposite of what I said!**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	8. Strain

_**A/N: Well, here's chapter eight. The completion of this chapter marks the halfway point of the story, and still we don't have smut between Alana and Astrid…I promise, it is coming guys.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Strain***

Three days. Three long, agonizing, days.

That's how long it took for Alana to reach the island of Solstheim, having climbed aboard a cargo ship making a supply run to the island. When she finally climbed out from below the deck and got her first look at the Dunmer colony, she was immediately greeted by a Dunmer with finely stitched clothes and an air of snobbishness about him.

"I don't recognize you," he said suspiciously. "So, I assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander. State your intentions."

"It's none of your concern." Alana brushed past him, one hand holding her greatsword. _'I don't give a damn who they are. Why I'm here is of no concern to him.'_

"Is that how you want to act? Fine. Perhaps a stint in the prisons will loosen that tongue of yours," the dark elf snapped.

Alana's hood fell down, and she let out a growl. "Do you really want to risk losing your own life because you stuck your nose in business that doesn't concern you or the people here?" _'The sheer arrogance of this one.'_

The elf faltered a little, and Alana scoffed, continuing on her way. "That's what I thought." _'Pathetic. Now, where would I find Saoron?'_

The Dunmer style houses were unfamiliar to her, as was the armor of the guards patrolling the streets. The armor appeared to be made of some sort of bone, and though at first glance it appeared brittle, upon closer inspection it looked like it could stop the blow of a weapon made from moonstone or even dwarven metal. _'Impressively made. Sturdy, but I bet it's a pain to move around in.'_

One of the guards saw her approaching, and he backed up immediately. "Don't like those eyes of yours…they burn with a bad hunger."

Alana ignored him, her torn cape dragging on the dusty ground behind her, and she approached a building that was larger than the rest. Outside of it was a sign that said, 'The Retching Netch', and she walked inside.

It was a Dunmer style cornerclub, and Alana was thankful to see it was empty inside, apart from the innkeeper; Saoron must have gotten word to the owner that he needed privacy.

The Dunmer behind the bar looked up at her entrance, and he gave her a polite nod. "Welcome to The Retching Netch Cornerclub, milady. He's in the first room to your left."

Alana nodded. "Thank you." She made her way to the room specified, and waiting for her on a comfortable bed was her old friend, Saoron.

"Alana," he greeted. "It's certainly been a long time." He stood up and gave her a friendly embrace, gesturing for her to take a seat. "Please, have a seat. I imagine the journey wasn't too rough?"

He closed the door, and Alana shook her head. "No. The seas were calm and the winds true." She took a seat, nodding graciously at the brunette's offer for a pint of mead. "It's nice to see you got my message as fast as you did."

"Indeed. Normally messages take nearly a full week to get here from Skyrim." Saoron took a seat across from her, taking a sip of his own flagon of mead. "But, we both know the real reason for your visit. You need me to inspect something, correct?"

"I do." Alana nodded and reached into the pocket of her armor, pulling out the jeweled amulet that Amaund Motierre gave her several days ago. "I need you to tell me what this is and how much it's worth."

Saoron took it carefully, looking at it with a critical eye. "Let's see what we have here…"

He looked over it and after a few seconds he began to chuckle, his eyes wide. "Where oh where did you get your hands on this?"

"What is it?" Alana asked.

"This is an amulet of the Emperor's Elder Council," Saoron explained. "Specially crafted for each member, and worth a small fortune. This isn't something you'd give up without one hell of a fight."

He sighed, gently placing it on the table. "Look, Alana. I'll never try and tell you how you should live your life. But if you've killed a member of the Elder Council, you better believe the Empire is going to be hunting you down to put your head on a spike to adorn the walls of the Imperial City."

"Will you buy it?" Alana asked, taking another gulp of mead.

"Buy it? An Elder Council amulet? Oh yes. Yes indeed." Saoron grinned at her. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of parchment and dipping his quill in some ink. He scribbled onto it, and handed it to her. "Here. Anything you need me to do, give me another holler. I'll do it for you."

"Do you still have it?" Alana put the note in her pocket, relieved to know that someone out there was willing to buy an amulet of such tremendous value.

Saoron nodded gravely. "I do. It's buried in the basement of my house, in the armory. Here's the key. I have to ask, though. What are you planning on doing with Requiem?"

Alana pocketed the key, her eyes brimming with anger and pain. "The Thalmor stole everything from the both of us. They tried to kill us, for worshipping Talos like the god he is. So now, I'm going to do what the Empire is too afraid to do." _'I'm going to make sure every single one of them suffers for what they did. It's time someone showed the Thalmor that they are not the true rulers of Tamriel like they think.'_

"Alana…" Saoron sighed, rubbing his head. "You can't do it alone. I did hear what you did to Northwatch Keep, and to Elenwen. But you don't need to do it by yourself anymore. You know there are plenty of people who are more than willing to fight beside you."

"This is my war, Saoron," Alana returned quietly. "And I won't see those I care about get harmed because of me. Not anymore." _'I'm finished. I'm tired of seeing loved ones get hurt because of me.'_

"Alana, you think you're being selfless, but you're not," the Breton countered. "Yeah, the Thalmor almost got me pretty good when I fled the Imperial City. but know this; I'd do it all over again, if it meant helping you. I fought with you because I'm your friend. You hate being alone, so let people in."

"You aren't cursed by the Daedra to bring misfortune everywhere you go," Alana replied, choking back a sob. "You don't hurt those you love…" Saoron didn't know the problem the vampire was having at the moment, torn between Serana and Astrid, and Alana was hesitant to reveal the details even to a close friend.

The Breton did raise an eyebrow in curiosity, but he didn't pry for more details. Instead, he gave her a consoling hug, ruffling her hair. "Well, if you need to talk, don't be afraid to come to me. My doors are always open to you."

Alana returned the hug, blinking back a flurry of tears. "Thank you."

When she broke apart, she gave him a sad smile. "it was nice to see you again. I'll come back when I can."

"Likewise. The house is to three over to the right." Saoron nodded.

Alana walked out of the room, giving a polite nod to the innkeeper on her way out of the tavern. She had no quarrel with him, and showing a common courtesy was the least she could do. Unlike most of her kind, she had no problem with the majority of Dunmer. The only elves she couldn't stand were the Altmer, due to their arrogant nature and superiority complex.

Outside, an ash storm was beginning to brew, and she scrunched her eyes and pulled her hood over her head. "Damn ash." _'Can't believe it's this bad. How the hell does Saoron live here without getting fed up with the ash?'_

Gripping her cloak tightly around her, she shuffled her way through the storm, and it didn't take long before she realized she was being followed. Her unnatural hearing picked up their light footsteps on the ash, and she gripped her sword tightly. _'I'm not alone. That damn elf from before must have sent someone to follow me.'_

She knew her arrival was sure to arouse suspicion, but as far as she was aware she didn't give the guards a reason to suspect her of committing a crime. _'Damn them. I guess my attitude towards that elf earlier was enough.'_ If they were looking for a fight, then they'd get it if they tried anything funny.

' _Remember, you're not here to cause a scene,'_ she chided. _'Just go in, find Requiem, and get on the next boat to Skyrim. Getting into a fight with the local guards isn't something that's on your list.'_

" _But it makes it a lot more interesting,"_ Mephala complained. _"Imagine it. A Daughter of Coldharbour fighting against followers of the Tribunal. I imagine my sisters would be very angry."_

Alana growled, her eyes looking through the ash and finding Saoron's house. "To Oblivion with you." _'Found it.'_

She dug in the pockets of her tight leather armor, fished out the key given to her, and prepared to unlock the door when those following her decided to attack.

An Elven blade flashed, and she stepped back to let the swing miss. The Dark Elf growled in anger, taking another swing at her, and again she stepped away. Her hand never left her sword's handle, and she sighed in boredom. "Is this how you treat a girl going to a friend's house after spending time in the tavern?"

The elf didn't answer, and he kept taking swing after swing. Each time he hit nothing but air, and Alana heard a sharp whistling. _'There's more.'_

She ducked, and an arrow flew over her head. "Missed." Two more arrows came from the ash, and Alana used her sword to block them, spinning it in her hand. _'Glass arrows, not Elven. Interesting.'_

Malachite was a much stronger material than moonstone, bested only by ebony and dragon bones when it came to crafting weapons and armor. Anything made with the strange metal was very effective in battle, and the arrows could pierce even Nordic armor.

She tripped the elf behind her with her leg, sending him to ground. With a growl she stomped on his wrist, breaking it and forcing him to drop his sword with a pained scream. "You bitch!"

"I've been called worse by better," Alana said with a snarl. She followed up with a swift kick to the stomach, sending him tumbling away in a heap. Two more arrows soared towards her, and she spun her sword to block them.

Two more elves appeared from the ash storm, their bows in hand, and they were preparing another salvo when an authoritative voice yelled out. "Stop at once!"

A third elf, this one carrying a large battleaxe, joined them, a scowl on his old features. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!?"

"But, Captain, we were told to—"

"Really? And who gave you that order?" the captain snapped. "Just because she's an outlander does not give you the right to attack her without a warrant. Has she committed a crime?"

"Well, no," one of them sheepishly admitted, lowering his bow. "But she looks suspicious, Captain Veleth."

"What reason has she given you to suspect that she's up to no good?" Captain Veleth asked harshly. "Or is it just an excuse to attack her because she's a Nord?"

"Look at her eyes. Those aren't natural." One pointed. "They glow like the sun."

"Enough of this petty nonsense." Veleth let out a growl and pointed back in the direction of the barricade on the other side of town. "Get back to the Bulwark immediately. The lieutenant will deal with you."

Alana rested her sword on her shoulder as the captain approached. He sighed, extending his hand. "I'm terribly sorry about that; those fools are always causing trouble. Modeyn Veleth, captain of the Redoran Guard at your service."

"No, I'm sorry." Alana took his hand, looking at the ashy ground. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"Nonsense." Captain Veleth waved dismissively. "You haven't done anything wrong. You were wrongfully attacked, and you defended yourself. Those three have quite the prejudice against Nords, for reasons I can't understand. Every one I've met has been relatively polite to me."

"You haven't been to Skyrim, then." Alana adjusted her cape. "I can name quite a few of my kinsmen who would treat you rudely. The current High King, for example."

"I've heard about that. So, the revolution was successful, then." Veleth let out a sigh. "However, trading with Windhelm has been picking up a lot over the last few months. Business is business. If you don't mind me asking, what brings you here to Raven Rock? We don't have much contact with outsiders, being on the frontier."

"Came to visit an old friend," Alana answered, being careful not to reveal too much about her meeting with Saoron. "Just came to catch up and pick up a gift he left for me."

"I see. Well, don't let me waste anymore of your time."

Veleth walked away, grumbling about his own men attacking her for no reason, and Alana unlocked the door to Saoron's house.

Inside, it was lavishly decorated. Silver goblets and plates were on a dining table, and the bookshelves were lined with an all matter of tomes. Alana took a moment to admire the collection of literary works the brunette had acquired since he left Cryodiil. _'Mostly tomes on legends across Tamriel. Looks like he built quite the collection.'_

As much as she would have loved to stay and read through them, she had to get back to Skyrim as fast as she could; time wasn't a luxury she had right now, with the plot to assassinate the Emperor now in place. Astrid was waiting for her.

' _Astrid…'_ She didn't know how to talk to her mistress whenever they were alone. The woman drove her _mad_ with her lusty voice and seductive smirk, and as severely weakened as she was by her refusal to feed, Alana didn't think she'd be able to hold off much longer.

She spotted the cellar doors, and Alana strode across the house and opened them. The wooden ladder creaked a little as she descended it, and she was glad when her boots made contact with the ground again.

The cellar was dark, and once her eyes got adjusted to the inky darkness, she saw what she was looking for. _'There it is.'_

It was her father's prized work, the zweilhander Requiem.

Saoron had taken to keeping it covered in a cloth wrapping to protect it from the elements, and Alana slowly walked over to undo the wrapping. The cloths fell on the ground to reveal its simple handle, and despite the sword's size, she was amazed at how it felt natural to her, like she was meant to wield it in battle. The blonde was skilled enough to be stealthy, but she was dangerously unpredictable in how she could go from a silent assassin to a heavy warrior in the blink of an eye.

The rest of the protective wrappings fell off, and the sword's blade was now exposed to her. The blade was in perfect condition, showing no signs of use, and she removed her Ebony Greatsword to heft Requiem. _This_ was the weapon she was born to use, to cut a bloody swath through her foes.

"You found it." Saoron's voice startled her, and she turned to see the brunette standing behind her with a bottle of brandy in his hands. The fact that he managed to sneak up on her was a bit of a concern; it showed that she was beginning to feel fatigued and disoriented.

"I did," she answered, carrying it effortlessly despite its uncanny bulk. The damn thing had to weigh more than a child, for Talos' sake. _'No wonder no one was able to use this. It's far too heavy for even the most muscular of Orc Chieftains.'_

Saoron took a sip of brandy, smacking his lips. "Well…I suppose you'll be heading back to Skyrim now?"

"I will." Alana nodded, sliding Requiem into the holster on her back armor. "I can't afford to spend any more time here than necessary." _'Believe me, I wish I could stay here and ask you for advice on how to deal with Astrid. But I don't need to make either Astrid or Serana worry about me even more than they already do.'_

"May the gods watch over you, Alana. Good luck."

"Yeah…luck…"

The splintering of wood after the Breton went back upstairs made her remember that no matter what, being around her was a constant strain on them.

* * *

Astrid was beginning to worry that Alana had met her death on her expedition to Solstheim when she heard the Sanctuary door open. _'About damn time. I was afraid she'd been killed out there.'_

When Alana entered her chambers, Astrid noticed the new acquisition across her back. "Where the hell did you get your hands on that?" _'By Sithis, that is far too big to be called a sword. It's more like a giant heap of steel.'_

"My father made it," Alana answered quietly, one hand on its handle. "I picked it up while I was in Raven Rock. I have news about the amulet, too."

"Do you?" Astrid folded her arms curiously. "What is it?"

"It's an amulet of the Elder Council." Alana handed her a note that bore her contact's signature.

"The Elder Council?" Astrid's lips curved up into a smirk as it all came together. "Oh, now that explains quite a bit. Motierre, you are one naughty, naughty little boy. Hiring the Dark Brotherhood to boost your position. Delicious."

When her hand made contact with Alana's, though, something happened. A scaly monster was born inside of her, growling at her to succumb to her inner desires and take her right then and there.

The vampire noticeably squirmed, her golden eyes locking onto hers. "Astrid..."

She shook her head vehemently, her voice little more than a whisper. "No…this isn't right."

Astrid closed the brief gap between them, her hands settling on her waist and giving her a sultry smile. "Maybe it is…" Astrid placed her lips on hers, taking her by surprise.

Alana let out a weak whimper of protest, unable to voice it thanks to Astrid's lips covering her own. Those noises did nothing more than satisfy the beast inside the assassin, and it purred in her chest.

Alana's thighs started to part, her knees growing weaker and more wobbly by the second. For as much as she said it was wrong, she seemed to be enjoying it. She wanted more, and Astrid gave her more.

She pushed against the vampire with a throaty and primal growl of lust, pinning her against the wall. That sound made Alana part her lips, inviting her mistress to dominate her oral cavern and claim what was rightfully hers. She finally started to kiss back with the same lustful power, and the beast in Astrid's chest purred even louder in satisfaction. _'There it is.'_

She smirked, her hands sliding under the straps of her armor and massaging Alana's toned stomach. While not as muscular as her ex-husband, it was enough to show that she was a true Nord through and through. "About damned time."

Alana didn't reply; she was practically in a trance, unable to pull away from those soft lips. Their kiss became more intense, and when Astrid pushed her lips harder into Alana's, she felt one of the vampire's fangs cut into her lips. _'Ow.'_

It stung, and the slightly salty liquid trickled into Alana's mouth, and the vampire's eyes widened in panic.

She pushed her away, and Astrid could see Alana's back start to quiver. "Astrid…run! Now!"

She let out a ragged cough, and Astrid watched with horrified eyes as a hideous transformation started to unfold. A pair of thin wings sprung up from Alana's back, the blonde letting out a pained scream that echoed throughout the Sanctuary.

Her arms became little more than stone, her nails turning into razor sharp claws, and she was soon cloaked in shadow. When it faded away, Alana wasn't there. In her place was a gargoyle-like monster, with jagged talons.

Astrid was frozen, paralyzed from the horror she just witnessed. She had heard stories about powerful vampires being able to transform into demonic beasts such as the one before her, but she had dismissed them as nothing more than stories parents told their children to get them to sleep at night.

But right in front of her was proof that the nightmares were real.

Alana, or whatever this monster was, let out a distorted scream, and it flew towards her with remarkable speed.

Astrid blinked, snapping out of her trance, and dove to the left. Alana crashed into the desk, reducing it to splinters of wood upon impact. "Alana, stop!"

But her attempts to calm the vampire down were useless. It was as if Alana wasn't in control of her own body anymore after a few drops of blood landed on her tongue. _'But that shouldn't have happened unless she was starved of blood!'_

The realization hit her. _'Was she purposely starving herself all this time? But why? Why would she do that to herself?'_

She didn't have time to dwell on it, as much as she would've liked to. Right now, she had to find some way of subduing Alana before she ended up dead, and that was much easier said than done.

She had seen the blonde fight before, and she knew that she was unusually fast. But in this form, her speed seemed to have doubled, and Astrid couldn't keep up dodging forever. _'I can't do this alone. I need help!'_

Her silent prayer to Sithis was answered only a few seconds later.

Serana entered the fray, a strange green spell cloaking her hand. "Get back!"

She cast the spell, and it struck Alana in the chest. It froze her on the spot, and she toppled over, motionless.

"Thanks," Astrid breathed, wiping sweat from her face. "I thought I was going to die for a moment there."

Serana looked at her, rings of exhaustion ringing her eyes. "Count yourself lucky I made it in time. Not many can say they were able to live as long as you did when she's in that form."

"What in Sithis' name is going on?" Astrid asked, standing up and opening the secret chamber connected to her quarters. Alana would need to be kept in isolation until she turned back to normal.

Serana looked at the small cut on Astrid's lip, and she looked at Alana's motionless form. "Alana, you damn idiot…"

She sighed, picking the vampire up by her legs. "Come on; let's carry her in there. I'll explain."

Astrid picked up Alana's arms, helping Serana carry her into the chamber. Once they placed her inside, Serana made sure to close the entrance up to prevent anyone else from accidentally getting attacked by the vampire.

"Okay," Serana sighed, sitting down on a chair that hadn't been knocked over during the brief scrum. "As I'm sure you know, vampires need to feed in order to ward off the effects of the sun. The longer we go without feeding, the more powerful our powers become, but our weakness also becomes more deadly. And she hasn't fed in a little over three weeks. It's a miracle she lasted this long."

"Why would she do that to herself, though?" Astrid didn't understand. Surely she had to know starving herself would be disastrous.

"She has a serious problem of loathing herself."

"Why would she hate herself?"

Serana shook her head. "I'm not the one you should be asking that question. You'll have to ask her. When she wakes up, of course."

Astrid looked at the sealed chamber, and she sighed. "Dammit." _'This is one hell of a mess.'_

' _I hope this isn't a sign that the Brotherhood is doomed to extinction.'_

 _ **A/N: Well, that's it for this chapter. First kiss, and it turns into a disaster XD. The uploading of this chapter marks the halfway point of the story, and I'm glad to have finally reached that fucking mark. Let's hope the other half of the story goes along as smoothly, though knowing my terrible schedule…**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	9. Sins

_**A/N: So, time for chapter nine of this Skyrim story. This marks the beginning of the second half, and one I hope goes smoother than the first. My update schedule did manage to clear up a little bit with a few fics getting finished, but…**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Sins***

" _Hello?" Alana's voice wavered slightly as her voice echoed in the inky darkness surrounding her. She shivered, hands gripping her cloak to wrap it tightly around her body, and she strained her ears to hear if anyone would answer her call._

" _Please, help me," she pleaded, her body starting to tremble. "I don't want to be alone anymore." A single tear started to snake its way down her pale cheek, and she stopped to wipe it away with the back of her hand. "You're supposed to be a heroine, so don't cry…"_

 _She tried to stop it before they burst their banks, but more kept coming, spilling like rain. Everything she had done washed over her at once, and she buried her head in her hands. "By the gods…I'm no heroine after all, am I?"_

" _Everything is all my fault." Her body shook with each sob. "I shouldn't have turned my back on Dibella. I shouldn't have offered myself like a common whore to Molag Bal." There was nothing but regret in her heart._

" _I'm sorry. For everything I've done. And for what I'm about to do." Alana hated herself for her actions, and she dropped to her knees, hoping that her desperate plea for forgiveness would be heard._

" _Do not fret, child," a soothing voice whispered. A comforting hand placed itself on her, the delicate fingers running through her hair. "Even when you strayed from your path, I have never stopped watching over you. I prayed that you would return, and you have."_

 _The voice was warm and filled with love, and it was one she knew very well. She hadn't heard it in some time, for she had found herself unable to speak with Her after her failure to keep herself pure. "D-dibella? Is that you?"_

 _The loving voice, the gentle touch, the feeling of Her hair brushing against her shoulder blades…_

" _It is, and you came," She replied. "Even though you're close to breaking. That's a good sign. So, why did you come to me?"_

 _Alana wiped her eyes, standing up and letting Dibella's love flow through her body. "I think…I want to be forgiven." She gave a brief nod after thinking about how much she wanted it. "More than anything."_

" _By who?" Dibella asked._

 _Alana turned to answer, and was greeted by a blinding light…._

* * *

Alana blinked her eyes open, her vision foggy. "W-what? Where am I?" She sat up, wincing as a dull pain pounded in her head. A quick look of her surroundings told her she was in some strange cave. Candles had been lit to provide her with some light, and the blonde staggered to her feet.

Her knees wobbled slightly, and she gripped the rocky wall tightly to keep herself from toppling over. "What in Oblivion happened to me?" _'What's going on? I remember kissing Astrid, and then…'_

The memories came surging through like a storm, and her eyes widened in horror. "By the gods, no…! Don't tell me I killed her!" She remembered Astrid's blood hitting her tongue, how she was unable to fight back the demon inside her from surfacing, and transforming into her Vampire Lord form.

Everything after her transformation was completely blank. She had no memory of what happened or how she ended up in this cave. _'Please don't tell me I hurt her…'_

If she had caused her bodily harm, she doubted she would be able to forgive herself despite her craving it.

With one hand on Requiem, Alana started to make her way towards the exit, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Serana. Her guilt overwhelmed her, and she couldn't meet her gaze. "Serana…I'm sorry."

"For what?" Serana asked.

"For everything I've done." Alana rubbed her arms, her joints aching from the time she spent on the stony ground. "For being unfai—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence." Serana put up a hand to stop her, and she grabbed her by the collar of her armor to push her against the wall.

Alana was shocked; Serana had never been so forceful with her before, and she was surprised to see Serana's own eyes watering. Pain, love, and anger all melted together in her stare, and Serana rested her head on Alana's chest. "Dammit, Alana. I love you. You know I'll never leave you. No matter what, I'll always be here for you. So stop trying to push me out. That hurts more than anything my father ever did."

Alana hugged her tightly, and she gently brushed some of her hair. "I spoke to Dibella while I was out."

"You did? What did She say?"

"That I came back to Her," Alana answered. She let out a sigh, holding Serana firmly against her body and absorbing her warmth. "I wasn't able to ask what I wanted before I woke up, though."

"And what is it you wanted to ask?"

Alana looked away, closing her eyes. "I don't know yet. I need time to think about it. Give me a few days, okay?"

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to think about it on your way to Solitude," Serana said. She motioned back towards the entry chamber with her thumb. "Astrid's waiting to debrief you on the objective."

"Got it." She nodded, and parted ways with one last look at Serana. "…thank you. For not hating me."

The blonde quickly made her way over to her mistress, and Astrid was bent over the table. "There you are. How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Alana shrugged, pulling her cape tighter around her and not meeting her gaze. "What's the objective?"

"Your target is Vittoria Vici. Does that name ring a bell?" she asked.

Alana nodded. It was the name of the woman who ran the East Empire Company warehouse in Solitude, the largest port in Skyrim. Vittoria herself was a cousin of the Emperor, Titus Mede II, and Alana knew she was having a wedding at the Temple of the Divines in the capital.

" _Killing her will be fun for you, my dear. Give Solitude a wedding they are sure to never forget,"_ Mephala whispered. _"And they say romance is dead in these times. How wonderfully exciting."_

Alana felt Requiem's handle, the smooth steel feeling comforting in her gloved hands, and she kept her guilty gaze fixed firmly on the ground. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Astrid nodded. "Keep your eyes open, and make sure you know what you're doing before you get yourself killed. This won't be easy, considering the location. You'll need to be stealthy about this. But, if we pull it off, the Brotherhood will be down a path we haven't been down in centuries."

"Done."

"One more thing, before you go." Astrid stopped her in her tracks, and the blonde leader leaned to whisper in her ear. "We need to talk when you get back."

Alana already knew what it would be about, and she nodded. "Understood." She wasn't particularly looking forward to having that conversation, especially since it would undoubtedly venture into the territory of how she gained her vampiric powers. She shuddered; those memories of being brutally defiled by Molag Bal in his own personal hell of Coldharbour was something she tried very hard to forget.

Though, if there was one semi-decent side effect from the events that transpired earlier, it was that her throat no longer burned from starvation. _'Only a handful of drops of blood, and my powers have weakened. Some threat I'll be.'_

She sighed and headed on outside. "I'll be back."

Outside the Sanctuary was covered with a thick eerie fog, and Alana called upon her Vampire's Sight power to see through it. Nothing was around her apart from a lone fox running through the pine forest, and Alana eased her stance, her hand dropping from Requiem's handle.

The zweilhander had yet to taste blood, and she imagined that swinging the great lump of raw steel would take quite a bit of her strength. Compared to the weapons she had previously used, it was much more difficult to try and use effectively; it would take some time before she was used to the blade's weight. _'Practicality has never been my strong suit when it comes to heavier weapons.'_

Her style of fighting, while effective, was also something that was heavily frowned upon by the strictest of swordsmen. She relied on her brute strength to dish out heavy blows, which were sure to break through any sort of defense given enough time. However, it was also highly predictable; a strategist would be able to counter it if they lived long enough.

Not that there was much she couldn't destroy in a few swings of the behemoth blade strapped to her back.

Her stroll through the forest was interrupted by a loud roar, and she let out a bitter laugh as she drew her large sword. "So much for being a quiet day…" _'Looks like this will get to taste blood after all.'_

She looked up at the beast flying high above her, resting her zweilhander on her shoulder. **"Joor Zah Fruul!"**

The Shout hit the dragon, and it let out a started roar as it was forced to the ground. It crashed through a bunch of trees, the tough wood snapping like twigs, and the dragon gave the blonde a hateful glare before it opened its powerful jaws and spat out a stream of fire. **"Yol Toor Shul!"**

Alana ducked underneath the flames, hissing as it burned her skin through the tough armor. Her vampirism still meant she was weak to any type of fire, and the dragon Shout would wreak havoc on that weakness. The best thing she could do was avoid fighting it at range and get right up close and personal with it.

Just the way she liked it.

With a fierce growl, she swung her heavy sword at the dragon's vulnerable wings. Keeping the bastard on the ground was important, and it couldn't fly if its wings were too badly damaged. Normally, it would take the fiercest and most courageous of warriors to even attempt such a brash strategy.

Not like Alana actually had any.

She swung, and the deadly blade sliced through the thin scales on its left wing, tearing it in half. The dragon roared in pain and thrashed its tail, hitting her into a tree. She heard her shoulder crack, and she bit back a cry of pain. Her left arm was hanging limp and useless, and she growled in anger. With her shoulder dislocated, it would be much harder to fight the monster.

Fuelled by little more than rage, she ran at the downed dragon and slammed her zweilhander deep into its scaly throat. The blade tore through them, and blood rushed out from the wound. The dragon's movement ceased, and it placed her boot down on the part of the wing she cut off earlier. "You're finished."

It glared at her, the light slowly fading from its hateful eyes. "Daughter of Akatosh…you have been found. You are dead, just like your whore mother…"

Alana bristled at the mention of her deceased mother, and she laughed bitterly. "Whore mother? You aren't the first to call me a daughter of a bitch!" One powerful, hate-filled swing later, and the dragon's head rolled away from its body.

Its remains crackled and began to wither away in flames, and Alana felt the rush of power surge through her as she devoured the dragon's soul. Shiny white bones were all that was left, and Alana slid her sword into its sheath before snapping her dislocated shoulder back into place. "Weak…"

It had been awhile since her last fight with a dragon, and though it was satisfying putting the beast to the sword, the dragon's last words rang in her ears. _'You have been found. By who? What did it mean?'_

She couldn't think of anyone who'd want her dead and was capable of speaking with dragons, as far as she knew. _'I don't understand it. But now's not the time to think about it. I have something to do.'_

She had a wedding to go to.

* * *

Serana let out a frustrated sigh, running a finger delicately over the edge of her dagger. She had known Alana was far too stubborn for her own good, but this latest incident was far too big of a problem for her to ignore. She was lucky that she wasn't discovered by one of the other members of the Brotherhood in her Vampire Lord form; Serana doubted it would've gone as smoothly as it did.

Serana had seen Alana become fuelled by nothing but pure rage before, when they confronted Serana's father in Castle Volkihar. Harkon had managed to seriously wound Serana with his enchanted sword, and Alana became completely unstoppable despite being wounded herself. It was frighteningly beautiful the way she swung her greatsword with all the fury of a vengeful goddess of death. She had leapt into battle without a moment's regard for her own life, using sheer strength alone to kill Harkon.

She remembered when the blonde's rage faded away, how she was more concerned with Serana's wounds than her own, despite the fact that Serana's had begun to heal thanks to her regenerative powers and Alana's arm had been broken.

It was terrifying. It was proof that the woman she loved didn't give a damn about herself. She'd probably fight until all of her bones were broken and the last drop of blood left her body.

Or at least, she would have, until her depression reared its ugly head.

Nowadays, Alana tried to avoid spilling blood if she could. She only drew her sword when necessary, and even then, Serana could see the sadness in her eyes while she fought. It hurt, seeing the once formidable warrior reduced to the person she was now.

Serana could only hope her earlier words would spark something to help the blonde out of her endless cycle of self-loathing.

"Worried?" Astrid asked quietly.

Serana nodded, and she took a seat next to the fireplace. The flames felt pleasant, warming her chilly hands, and she was a little surprised to find a bottle of Argonian Bloodwine in front of her.

Astrid was offering it to her, rubbing her head. "Here, you need it more than I do at the moment."

"Thanks." Serana took the bottle graciously and pulled out the cork to take a swig. _'Not bad.'_ It was a little different to the mead she preferred, but it was still pleasant.

"So, what did you tell her when she woke up?" Astrid asked, staring at the flickering flames.

Serana took another gulp, wiping a drop from her lip. "Told her what I needed to. Hopefully it'll snap her out of it."

The way how Alana looked so guilty when she apologized broke her heart. She didn't blame her for a second for falling to the temptations; if she were in Alana's shoes, she too would've succumbed.

"Do you think she'll be fine? Should I have sent you to Solitude instead?" Astrid asked.

"You haven't see her fight like I have," Serana replied. "She'll be more than fine."

"How so?" Astrid's eyebrow rose in curiosity.

Serana sighed and placed the bottle on the floor. "I've seen her covered in blood from twelve men, eyes ablaze with hatred and bleeding from several wounds, and still fighting without a moment's regard for her own safety. When she's goes berserk, she's completely unstoppable and unpredictable."

"Wow. I'm impressed. Not many have ever had that sort of sheer willpower in battle," Astrid remarked. Serana's eyes flickered to her, and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

By the blood, she looked damn good in that tight armor. Every curve was noticeable, and she licked her lip. _'Dammit, that smell…'_

If Astrid was aware of the vampire's plight, she gave no sign of it, and she crossed her legs. "Do you remember the story of the Black Swordsman?"

Serana shook her head. "No. I've never heard of it."

"I'm not too surprised. Most people haven't." Astrid brought her knee into her chest a little. "About three hundred years ago, a man in Skyrim dedicated his life to killing Daedra. He wore black armor that sealed his body off and allowed him to battle until the last drop of blood was spilled. The armor is said to be cursed, and makes the wearer give into their inner demons to become a hateful killer. Countless Daedra worshippers and their Dremora fell to his giant blade, a sword called the Dragonslayer."

Serana was impressed. She hadn't heard the story before, and she was shocked to hear of someone like that. "Seriously? Why don't more people know of that legend?"

"Because he didn't want his deeds to be recorded," Astrid replied. "But the tales of his exploits that survived suggest that he could bring down armies by himself, and he was a gifted user of the Voice."

"You think he might be one of her descendants?" Serana asked.

"It's merely my speculation." Astrid shrugged. "Let's get down to the real business. You have something you want to ask me, do you not?"

Serana nodded, and she stood up to look down at her. "Why did you decide to kiss her? I'm not angry; I just want to know your motivations. If you're just doing it to toy with her, then I'll have something to say. She's been through enough and doesn't need this."

Astrid didn't bat an eyelid, her gaze never once leaving hers. "I'm not. I did it because I wanted to."

"Even though you know what she is?"

"I did it in spite of what she is," the blonde answered. "You said it yourself not too long ago, didn't you? The past doesn't define the person you are. It merely gives you the starting point for who you're going to be. I could care less about the past."

"Sounds like you have something you want to forget, yourself."

"I do. My uncle made unwanted gestures towards me when I was a young girl. One night, I grabbed a knife and killed him in his sleep," Astrid said quietly. "And you know what, I refuse to let myself become weak for that very reason. But, ever since you two have shown up, I've felt more at ease than I have in years. My guard has lowered significantly."

Serana's eyes caught the slight pulsing of the vein on Astrid's neck, and her mouth watered. It had been a few days since her last proper feed, when she stopped in one of Markarth's sleazy alleyways for an easy meal.

Astrid smirked, noticing the vampire's hungry stare. "Well, it looks like something's caught your eye. I wonder what it could possibly be. Is someone a little thirsty?"

The little taunt made Serana growl, and she narrowed her eyes with a sharp hiss. "Damn you."

Astrid pulled her hair to the side to expose the tender skin on her neck, inviting her. "Go on, if you must."

Serana tried to resist, but her body wouldn't let her, and she pounced with an irritated hiss. "Dammit." She pushed the blonde to the ground and sank her fangs into her neck.

Astrid let out a gasp as the vampire's teeth punctured her skin, and she shuddered. Her blood began to flow over Serana's tongue, and by the gods it was wonderful. The delicious flavors were simply divine, and she greedily drank it quicker than a high-bosomed maiden drank mead.

It was so sweet, dangerously so, and she could see why Alana had so much trouble trying to resist her.

Astrid's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and her hand was rubbing in the spot just between Serana's shoulder blades. The vampire reluctantly pulled away, catching a few spare drops with her tongue and licking the two bite marks. "How did it feel?"

"Intoxicating," Astrid whispered. "In the best way." She touched the two marks, pulling her fingers away when they became wet with blood and sticking them in her mouth to suckle on them. "I must be quite delicious to you and Alana."

Serana wiped her chin, and she caught her breath after her brief little frenzy. "You better believe it."

She had a feeling Alana would enjoy having a proper taste even more than she did.

* * *

Alana walked through the city of Solitude, well aware of the stares she was getting. Her sword was sure to draw attention, with the damn thing being as big as she was. The capital city was alive, the citizens talking in excited whispers of the wedding about to be held in only a few minutes.

From what she could gather, Vittoria's husband had ties to the Stormcloaks, and their union was to be a step towards peaceful negotiations between the Empire and the newly freed Skyrim. No doubt the staunchest of the Empire's supporters would be enraged by the event, and the same would be said of the Stormcloaks. They'd see it as betrayal.

Alana could use their own emotions against them, with her Illusion magic. It had been awhile since she last used a Fury spell, but with her recent feed, her magicka reserves were back to full power.

She walked up to Castle Dour, her muffled boots not making a sound as she scaled the stony steps. Now on top of the fortress, she quickly walked along the path until she reached the Temple of the Divines, where the wedding was happening just below.

Alana felt her sword's handle, and she closed her eyes with a sigh. "Dibella…forgive me, for what I'm about to do."

Vittoria Vici was sitting below with her Nordic husband, and the two started to walk towards the balcony just below Alana's position.

The blonde's eyes quickly moved over the current guests. She recognized Jarl Elisef, Pantea Atia, and Evette San in the small crowd, along with two bickering families near the temple. No guards were present, though, and she felt annoyed with the lack of security. This was a wedding that involved someone with familial ties to the current Emperor, for Talos' sake. _'They can't really be this naïve, can they?'_

The doors below her opened, and Alana's hand fell from her sword. It would be too obvious if she leapt down now; all eyes were on the bride, Vittoria. _'Best to retreat for now. The wedding isn't going to start for at least another thirty minutes.'_

Her arm brushed against the side of a stone gargoyle, and Alana felt her curse activate. _'Of all the damn times!'_ The gargoyle fell and crushed Vittoria in the middle of her address.

Alana already transformed before the woman's husband could scream.

* * *

When Alana arrived back at the Sanctuary, Astrid was waiting for her, and the blonde leader smirked. "The blushing bride has been killed at her own wedding. All of Skyrim is in an uproar now. well done."

Alana didn't answer her, her heart heavy with guilt, and Astrid strode over to her. "Serana and I are working on the next stage for our plan. You go and rest; you need it."

"But…" Alana tried to voice her protest, only to be cut off by Astrid's finger on her lips.

"No. That's an order," she said firmly. "You need the sleep; you look dead on your feet."

Alana reluctantly nodded, walking away without complaint. "Understood." She went through the Sanctuary, passing by Veezara while he trained, and once inside her quarters she unclipped Requiem from her back to rest the sword against the wall.

She stood back, remembering the last time she got a chance to speak to her father before he died. "I said that I would live out both our lives. Easy to make that promise, Father…"

She didn't notice Astrid enter, and she was surprised when the blonde put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Alana shook her head, wishing that she would leave her be.

Astrid took a seat on her bed, her gaze unusually solemn. "Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you constantly push out the ones who want to help you?"

Alana sighed, her golden eyes on the ground. "Astrid…I can't even care for myself, let alone anyone else. I'm not fit to help anyone. Not my friends, not my family… no one. It always ends the same way."

Tears began to sting the corners of her eyes, and Astrid rubbed her back comfortingly. "Why should you have to lose to a memory?"

Alana didn't know why, but at that moment, the weight of guilt in her heart finally began to decrease. "Do you know…if sins are ever forgiven?"

"I've never tried."

Alana looked at her sword, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes. "Well, I'm going to try. I'll go to Markarth tomorrow."

Astrid nodded, and she went to leave when Alana grabbed her hand, giving her a pleading stare. "Could you…stay?"

She was happy when Astrid nodded yes.

 _ **A/N: I do hope someone caught the reference in this chapter. I always liked pushing the gargoyle during the wedding, too. Makes it more amusing to me XD.**_

 _ **Anyways, I'll see you soon! Peace!**_


	10. Forgiven

_**A/N: Chapter 10 guys. The second half of this fic is progressing well for once, and I am hopeful to complete this one by next summer. I have hope I can do it!**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Forgiven***

Dibella's presence felt a lot more powerful in Markarth than it had in recent months, Alana noticed. The blonde vampire was currently walking through the streets of the City of Stone again, and despite being wanted for Thonar Silver-Blood's murder, none of the city's guards made a move to attempt to arrest her. Several did back up when they saw her approach though; humans naturally feared that which was unnatural, and her golden eyes were enough to show she wasn't a human like them.

It was either that or they were afraid of the sight of her zweilhander. Requiem's size alone would intimidate even the most ferocious Nord warriors, even those who made names for themselves slaying the bandits and beasts of the tundra.

She walked up the smooth stony steps and stood in front of the temple. She could feel Dibella's warm eyes on her, and she sighed before stepping in. _'I've come this far. There's no point in me turning back now.'_

She entered the temple and was greeted by a Breton priestess wearing golden robes. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Alana recognized her from her misadventure with Sanguine many months ago. It was Senna, someone who hadn't betrayed her yet.

Alana lowered her hood, and Senna gasped when she saw her. "It can't be…Alana? What are you doing here? Half of Skyrim is looking for you!"

"I need to speak to Dibella," Alana answered quietly. She kneeled before the higher ranked priestess to show her respect, her eyes on the ground. "Please."

"Rise, child." Senna motioned for Alana to stand, and she gave her a nod of approval. "You have permission to enter the Inner Sanctum, former priestess Alana. May the goddess's words light your path."

The blonde rose and made her way to the Inner Sanctum. Once in front of the massive stature of the goddess of beauty, she kneeled before it and closed her eyes. "Dibella…I've come. Hear my prayer." _'I've come seeking forgiveness for the sins I've committed. Please, hear me.'_

She felt cold, fearful if she moved she would shatter into a thousand pieces like glass. She didn't dare move until she finally opened her eyes. When she did, she found herself in Dibella's own personal home in the realm of Aetherius, and she stood up.

Dibella approached her, a golden hue surrounding her curvaceous frame. _"It is a pleasure to see you again, Daughter of Akatosh. You've come seeking forgiveness, but from who? Have you finally found the answer?"_

"I have," Alana answered. "I seek forgiveness from those who I've been unfaithful to. Serana, Astrid, you, and my father Siegfried. I accept full responsibility for what I've done."

" _Very well. Your plea has not only been heard, but accepted."_ Dibella's warm smile faded, and she let out a sigh. _"However, I'm afraid I can only remove one of the two curses afflicting you. Both of them run deep. Which one do you wish for me to take away?"_

Alana lowered her head, knowing which one she wanted gone. "My misfortune. I can live with having to prey in the night. Being a curse to everyone around me is something I no longer want to bear."

" _Very well."_ Dibella raised a hand, cloaking it in her magic, and she lifted the blonde into the air using her power. _"By the power of the Divine of Beauty, no longer will you be the Harbinger of Skyrim. You will be the one who shows her beauty in the night."_

Alana landed on the ground and when she opened her eyes she was no longer with Dibella in Aetherius. She was back in the temple, and for the first time in far too long, she smiled.

The curse laid on her by Nocturnal for falling to temptation by Mephala was gone, and she could afford to open up around Astrid and Serana. "I feel lighter…" _'She removed it. I'm finally free from it. No longer will I be a burden to those I care about.'_

However, this was only the beginning, and she knew it. She had a lot more to atone for, including letting Madanoch run loose in the Reach. The blonde could remember it like it was just yesterday. The blood of the Nords who were bribed by Thonar Silver-Blood dripping down the stony streets, the victorious yells from the Forsworn, and even how she looked down at the chaos with little more than a snarl. She remembered all of it. _'I was wrong to let him leave the city alive. But Thonar had it coming. He was a disgrace of a Nord. No honor.'_

Her magic felt more alive than it had in recent months, and Alana left the Inner Sanctum.

Senna was waiting for her, and she bowed her head. "The goddess found you favorable. Should you ever need to speak to her again, you are more than welcome here."

Alana nodded and went back outside. While she was free from her curse of bad luck, she still was a wanted woman in most of Skyrim, and many of the Jarls and powerful families within the country would love nothing more than to have her head on a spike adoring the walls of the Palace of the Kings.

But Alana really meant it when she said she wanted to be forgiven for what she did, and that meant she had to face the jarls of the land and answer for the crimes she did commit. First on that list was Jarl Thonvar Silver-Blood of Markarth.

She walked towards the Keep, keeping her head down to not reveal herself too early. She doubted the guards would recognize her as the same woman who fought by their side during the civil war, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Especially around mortals.

' _If they don't try and attack me, this will go a lot smoother.'_ Now inside the keep, Alana made her way up the stairs until her path was blocked by a large warhammer.

"What is your business here, citizen?" the guard wielding the weapon asked. "The jarl isn't expecting visitors."

"I wish to talk to Thonvar," Alana said quietly. "Please, take me to him."

The guard shared a look with his companion, and when given a nod, he lowered his weapon. "Very well. I shall take you to him, but we've got our eyes on you."

Alana followed him up towards the Mournful Throne, and Thonvar raised an eyebrow in curiosity when he saw her approach. "Who are you to approach the Jarl of Markarth?"

Alana lifted her head, her golden gaze meeting his evenly. "It's been a long time, hasn't it Thonvar?"

Thonvar's eyes widened in shock and his housecarl made to draw his sword and cut her down when he raised an arm. "Stay your weapon."

Though he was calm, his voice was thick with anger and he stood up from his throne to glare at the blonde. "You have a lot of nerve coming to me, Alana. Especially since my brother's death, which you caused. Now, give me one good reason not to plunge my sword into your damn throat."

Alana stood her ground, refusing to back down to him. He may have been the jarl, but Thonvar wasn't a warrior bred for battle and bloodshed like she was; she could easily take him if it came to swords. "Madanoch killed Thonar, not me. His arrogance led him to his own demise. He assumed the Forsworn would always be at his beck and call and wouldn't plot under his nose."

"And who had a hand in helping the Forsworn escape Cidhna Mine?" Thonvar countered.

Alana folded her arms and bared her fangs. Even having fed recently and with most of her powers weakened, she was still intimidating to a mortal. "I haven't come here to make war with you, Thonvar. I've come to make you a deal."

"And what might this deal be?"

"Madanoch's head for my name cleared throughout the Reach."

Thonvar laughed, and he shook his head. "As if you would know where he is. None of our scouts have spotted as much as a trace of him since he escaped the mine."

"That's because they don't know where to look." Alana walked over and pointed to the map of Skyrim with her finger. "Madanoch is holed up here. Druadach Redoubt. It's a small hideaway in the northern part of the Reach, northwest of a known dragon nest."

Thonvar crossed his arms and scowled, but he joined her by the map. "So, you know where he is. But who's to say you won't betray me and storm up with him?"

"I have no love for the Forsworn. They've killed too many of our kinsmen," Alana said. "With him dead, they will scatter into the hills. They will no longer be a threat. Two birds with one stone, if you ask me. Not only do you get revenge, but you protect your people at the same time." _'Hopefully my vampiric ways of persuasion will help out here.'_

Thonvar growled, but he gave her a nod. "Very well. Madanoch's head for your freedom."

"Then I'll be on my way."

Alana turned on her heel and left, hand reaching for her zweilhander's handle.

Her sword was going to taste human blood, now.

* * *

Serana had to admit that Astrid was smart. The assassin leader knew very well that the assassination of the Emperor's cousin would mean the arrival of Titus Mede II was inevitable, but first was the arrival of his own personal security force, the Penitus Oculatus.

They were formidable warriors; handpicked by the Emperor himself, they were the best of the best, taken from the ranks of the Imperial Legion. They were led by a man by the name of Commander Maro, a powerful soldier who made a name for himself during the Great War.

However, Astrid had come up with a clever plan to break him. His son, Gaius Maro, was also in the Oculatus and he was assigned to verify the security of the holds of Skyrim. The objective was to kill Gaius Maro and plant false evidence on his body of a plot to assassinate the Emperor. Not only would it destroy Commander Maro mentally and keep him distracted, but Astrid said that the Emperor would gain a false sense of security; since he would believe an assassination plot had already been foiled, he won't expect another one.

Right now, Serana was stalking Gaius on the road from Dragon Bridge to Whiterun, just past Rorikstead on the way to the hold capital. She had managed to keep out of sight of the oblivious Imperial so far, not letting him get out of her sight in the process. An incriminating letter containing details to the false plot was currently residing in Serana's pocket, and the vampire rubbing her aching legs. Being in a stealthy position for a long period of time was far more exhausting than she remembered, and her irritable side started to show more and more with each passing minute.

If she had to walk in a crouch for much longer, she'd give into her frustration and kill him by draining his very life force.

She was glad when Whiterun loomed in the distance. It wouldn't be much longer before Maro was killed by her hand.

She continued to stalk him like a saber cat does to a rabbit along the road until her and her prey were within the crumbling walls of the city. Serana approached the Imperial, and he turned when he saw her. "I can't stop to chat, citizen. I have important business to attend to."

' _Plan A.'_ Serana was good at acting like a temptress, and she sauntered over to him to place a hand on his cheek. "You're not from around these parts, are you? Neither am I."

"I…I…" Maro's cheeks flushed a little, and he cleared his throat to regain his composure. "No, I have someone I'm betrothed to. It would be wrong of me."

Serana smirked, using her vampiric seduction powers to rope in her victim closer. "Aw, but Skyrim can be very cold and lonely at night, wouldn't you agree? I imagine you would like some company very, very much."

"I would, of course," he murmured. "But I'm a faithful man. It isn't right."

Serana gave up with the attempts at seduction. Either this man was incredibly resistant to her charms or her powers had waned more than she suspected. "Well, so much for this going to plan. Nothing personal, Gaius Maro."

Before Gaius could react, Serana's dagger plunged into his chest. Gaius let out a pained yell and he staggered away with the weapon protruding from his body. "Y-you bitch!"

Serana let the insult roll off of her and she conjured a bow in her hand. She wasn't as good of an archer as Alana or Gabriella, but she knew how to use one. She readied one of the spectral arrows and loosed it into Gaius's head.

Gaius Maro's corpse hit the ground a few seconds later.

Serana let the bow disappear from her hand, and she walked over to yank her knife from his body before she planted the false letter on it. "There. That ought to do it."

Astrid was right. Killing these more important targets was far more thrilling than anything Nazir could throw her or Alana's way. Everything was going exactly as the Dark Brotherhood planned.

* * *

Druadach Redoubt wasn't as heavily guarded as Alana initially suspected. When she arrived, it was guarded by two Forsworn archers who quickly fell to her enormous blade. The cave opening was surrounded by spikes with goat heads adorning them, and Alana rested her zweilhander on her shoulder. _'For being the place that hides the leader of the Forsworn, it's not heavily defended on the perimeter. Is it hiding a much larger force inside, or did they assume no one would think to look here?'_

It was a question soon to be answered as she stepped into the hideaway.

Inside, it was home to no less than twenty members of the Forsworn, including Madanoch. _'There you are.'_

The leader of the Forsworn was talking to the large Orc she recognized as Borkul the Beast. An absolute brute of an Orc, he would probably be her biggest threat. She felt her blood pump as the Forsworn all turned to her, muttering amongst themselves. _'That's right. Look while you can.'_

Madanoch smiled coldly and approached her, flanked by his loyal men and women. "Well, if it isn't our favorite Nord friend who helped us escape. You've changed a bit since we last had the pleasure of meeting. So, what do you want? Here to warm a few beds?"

"You wish," Alana snarled. "I'm here to bring your head to Thonvar. Nothing personal."

The Forsworn closest to her attacked first. A grave mistake, as Alana's unnatural speed and strength overpowered them instantly. She swung her giant blade in an arc and cut them in half, showering herself and the ground in a red spray. Their corpses hit the uneven floorboards, and Alana raised Requiem to block a flurry of arrows.

They harmlessly bounced off the tough steel, and Alana grinned savagely at Madanoch as his men continued to pepper her with arrows to little effect. "Sorry, but you'll have to do much better than that."

Alana closed the distance between her and the Forsworn she recognized as the one who lost his daughter. She did feel sorry for him, but he killed far too many innocents for him to be spared.

She cut him down without hesitation, his screams ringing hollow in her ears.

Borkul launched himself at her with a roar. His berserker ability was active, and he swung his axe with all his fury behind it. Alana met it with Requiem, and her blade shattered the war axe. Splinters of metal and bone flew everywhere, and her momentum carried her zweilhander through the Orc's torso.

With Borkul taken care of, she continued to cut a bloody swathe through the Forsworn. A Briarheart charged at her with an angry yell, and Alana sidestepped the clumsy and predictable attack. He tumbled down the stairs and Alana cut him in two.

Two mages met their doom as well and the blood sprayed over her body as she approached a horrified Madanoch. The leader of the Forsworn was crawling away from her as she approached with her sword gently dragging on the dirt, and he spat angrily.

"I should've expected this betrayal from you, you wench," he said, eyes alight with fear. "You won't get away with this!"

"I think I will. Your reign of terror throughout the Reach is over." Alana didn't even blink as her sword removed his head from his scrawny shoulders. His headless corpse fell on the ground, and the blonde warrior placed her heavy sword across her back before she grabbed the head by his scraggly hair. She tossed it in an empty knapsack and carried it out.

Time to return to Thonvar.

* * *

Thonvar blinked in surprise when he saw Alana approach him. "Back so soon, are we? Does that mean you were successful?"

Alana nodded and tossed the knapsack containing Madanoch's head at the jarl's feet. "I am. Inside is the head of Madanoch, and his forces are no longer a threat to Markarth." _'Not like he put up much of a fight. Even if I didn't have my father's sword, I could have taken them all without much harm.'_

Thonvar picked up the sack and peered in, and he gave her a nod of approval. "Very well. A true Nord keeps his word to a fellow kinsman. By the authority granted to me as the Jarl of Markarth, I declare your name to be cleared throughout my hold. You will never need to fear walking the streets of any settlements in the Reach."

The blonde let out a sigh of relief, bowing her head to show her gratitude. "Thank you, Thonvar. I won't forget this gesture." She turned away from the jarl and headed downstairs out of the keep.

She was finally on the right path, but it was still just the start of her repent and it would to continue to be paved with bloodshed.

* * *

Astrid could understand being frustrated with a lack of excitement. She could understand not having anyone else to turn to; she hadn't met a lunatic who she didn't like for some reason or another. The Dark Brotherhood thrived on being the most dysfunctional yet tight-knit family in Skyrim, from immortal ten year olds, vampires, and werewolves to wizards and former drug addicts.

But by Sithis, she really couldn't stand Cicero at all.

Just his very voice got under her skin, and if he weren't the Keeper, she would've probably had Alana kill him already.

Currently the jester was moaning and groaning about the blonde warrior being the Listener, saying it wasn't right for an immortal to be the one who heard the Night Mother's voice. Personally, Astrid didn't give a damn what Cicero thought, but his words still seemed to have an effect on Veezara and Festus; the two had taken to murmuring behind her back, and she was sure that they were plotting something.

What though, she was uncertain. But the way they kept looking at her and talking in hushed whispers made her very uncomfortable. _'I don't like this. I feel like a plot against the Brotherhood is starting.'_

Serana was on her way back from Whiterun and Alana was somewhere in the Reach, which meant she only had two people she could properly confide her suspicions to.

Nazir and Lucien Lachance.

The blonde sighed and walked over to where the Redguard warrior sat. She'd talk to Lucien later tonight once one of the two vampires returned. _'He'll have to do.'_

Nazir was sipping from a bottle of Bretonese whiskey at the long dinner table and he looked up when he saw his mistress approach. "Astrid? What can I do for you?"

Astrid took a seat across from him, slicking her hair back. "I want to talk. I have a very bad feeling about something and was hoping you'd be willing to tell me your thoughts on it."

"Go ahead. I'm all ears."

"It's about Cicero. I'm sure you've noticed that he's not exactly the sanest of us here," Astrid began. "In fact, he's probably even more mad than even Festus, and that's an achievement. His madness aside, I think he's plotting something. Haven't you noticed how Festus and Veezara have taken to murmuring something whenever I'm nearby?"

Nazir nodded, stroking his knotted beard carefully. "I have. However, I don't think it's them you should be worried about. The Listener hasn't been back, and it's been several days since she left for Markarth. It's unlikely that she's been killed, due to her reputation as a warrior, but one can never be too careful. Being the walking bad luck charm she is, it is possible that she met her demise out in the Reach."

"You can't really think someone of her skill was killed by some Forsworn." Astrid let out a scoff. "You saw the dragon corpse outside; the damn thing was missing its head and a wing."

"An impressive display, sure," Nazir agreed. "But her skill depends on using brute strength alone. The only reason she's still alive is dumb luck and willpower."

"You dare to disrespect our Listener!?" a crazed voice shrieked. Astrid whirled around to see Cicero standing behind them with a maniacal glint in his eyes and his dagger drawn. "You'll die for your crimes!"

He lunged out, and Astrid rolled out of the way. "Stop this madness! That's an order!"

The jester ignored her command and continued to attack, cackling like a madman as he whirled around the two with his dagger slashing. "The Night Mother will rejoice in your death, traitor! Ahahaha!"

The sounds of chaos alerted the other members of the Sanctuary, and Veezara to her surprise rushed in to block a possibly fatal blow with his sword. He bared his teeth in a snarl, pushing the jester back. "Astrid, get back!"

The Argonian tried to parry a second blow, but Cicero's dagger twisted at the last minute and cut through his stomach. He crashed on the ground with a pained yell, and Cicero cackled before he ran out of the Sanctuary. "Ahahaha!"

Astrid helped Veezara to his feet and he was clutching his wounded side with a sharp hiss of pain. "Dammit. That little jester is good with a blade, I have to admit."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his pointed head. "Bested by a damn fool. I guess I was the bigger fool."

"Hush, Brother," Astrid murmured, helping him to Babette's medicinal chamber. "I am in your debt. You didn't have to take that hit for me. You just rest easy; we'll handle this mess from here on."

She was grateful when she heard the Sanctuary door open again and Alana entered. Her golden eyes were wide with concern upon seeing the condition the Sanctuary was in, and her hand was already on her zweilhander. "What the hell happened!?"

"Cicero went absolutely berserk," Astrid answered, shaking her head. "He just attacked me and Nazir for absolutely no reason, wounded Veezara and fled. Did you see him?"

Alana shook her head, and her gaze darkened. "No. But I saw tracks that could only belong to a werewolf. I imagine Arnbjorn went after him." Even though her voice was calm, Astrid could still hear the venom in her ex-husband's name.

"I have a task for you."

"What is it?"

"I want you to find that damned jester and cut him into as many pieces as you desire," Astrid said.

Alana nodded, her eyes molten pits of anger. "Don't worry. I'll search his room to see if he left any clues as to where he could've gone, and then I'll be sure he screams for his life while I rip him apart."

The blonde vampire seemed looser now, Astrid noticed. No longer did she carry herself with a sense of self-hatred. It was like she was a different woman now.

Despite the recent chaos that ensued, it was a nice change.

Astrid watched as Babette applied a medical salve to Veezara's side, and she stalked back to her chambers in preparation for the next part of the plan. Cicero's attempt on her life or not, they still had to work out the next phase of their plan to assassinate the Emperor.

Strangely, she felt pity for Cicero. His madness was his own undoing, and he had no idea that a vengeful war goddess was hunting him down with the intent of ripping him in pieces.

Alana returned with a journal in hand. "I found Cicero's journal. Looks like he's heading to the Dawnstar Sanctuary."

"The Sanctuary in Dawnstar? Hmm…if he's heading there, it stands to reason he's familiar with it. You'll be fighting him on his own ground. Be cautious," Astrid warned. "And take my horse, Shadowmere. You'll find him by the black pool outside."

"Got it." Alana nodded.

"One more thing, before you go."

"What?"

"Make sure the way you kill him is painful and slow."

 _ **A/N: And that's a wrap. Two updates in the same month? I swear, you aren't imagining shit XD. I'm trying to stay on schedule as much as possible to finish this quickly to free up more time.**_


	11. Shattered

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter eleven. Is this chapter an excuse to kill the most annoying NPC in Skyrim? Oh yeah. I don't think I can express my hatred for Cicero enough. He angers me more than fucking Nazeem, and that's an accomplishment.**_

 _ **Also, since I got attacked with a moth meme when I suggested the idea of having smut in this chapter, you're getting it. Yes, it's finally here. AstridxAlana smut. Christ, it only took me eleven fucking chapters XD.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Shattered***

When Alana went outside to the shadowy pool of darkness outside the Sanctuary, she was full of anger. She had known that Cicero was completely mad in the few (thankfully brief) encounters she had with him, but to go as far as to attempt to murder the leader of a Sanctuary, he had gone way too far. There was no other punishment suitable for his crimes apart from a brutal, brutal death, and Alana was only too happy to be the one to deliver that kind of bloody justice.

She stopped a few feet away from the pools, and the sound of galloping hooves thundered in her ears. The pool bubbled and hissed, and in a cloud of shadow appeared a dark brown horse with glowing red eyes. He reared up on his hind legs and let out a neigh, punctuated by the crash of thunder, and Alana reached forward to gently pet his face. "It's been awhile since we last met…hasn't it?"

Compared to the last time, when the dark steed glared at her with raw animalistic fury, Shadowmere's eyes were calm and he let out a gentle snort. He shook his head from side to side, and Alana nodded. "I'm sorry for hiding my true form from you back then. It was a necessity."

Shadowmere responded with a soft nibble on her shoulder and the blonde mounted him. "Come on, boy. To Dawnstar."

Shadowmere neighed and set off at a brisk pace, galloping away from the Sanctuary and onto the road. Alana leaned forward to shift her balance, ducking under a few low branches in the process.

Her blood thundered in her ears, and all she could think about was how Cicero attempted to kill someone she cared about. _'Astrid nearly died because of that lunatic. I nearly lost her.'_

Her rage started to set in, and her golden eyes burned with fury. She was going to kill him in the most brutal way she possibly could and she made a mental note to drag it out to make the bastard suffer. _'I'm going to make sure he screams for mercy while I break him to pieces.'_

Shadowmere let out an irritated huff and Alana blinked. She had been gripping the steed's mane rather tightly and she loosened her grip, petting the side of his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

The horse merely snorted, prompting the blonde to roll her eyes. "I get it. It won't happen again."

For a creature born in the shadows of the Void, Shadowmere had quite the sarcastic side to him. It reminded Alana a lot of how her and Serana's relationship was in the beginning.

She sighed and clicked her heels against his side to make him go a little bit faster. She wasn't about to let Arnbjorn get the privilege of killing that damn clown.

* * *

When she arrived in Dawnstar, she directed Shadowmere to follow the trail of blood that had stained the snow. There was an awful lot of it, and her throat burned longingly. Someone had been wounded, and badly. _'So much blood. One of them wounded the other.'_

The smell of it was thick, musky, and stank of wet fur. The stench made her lip curl, and she gagged. It was Arnbjorn's blood that painted the snow red, not Cicero's. _'A werewolf bested in combat by that stupid jester? Talk about pathetic.'_

Either Arnbjorn wasn't that great of a fighter, or Cicero was more skilled than she initially thought.

She followed the trail up to the Sanctuary door, and sitting in front of it clutching his wounded side was Arnbjorn. Blood was pouring out of a nasty gash, and the werewolf let out a pained growl seeing her approach. "Should've known Astrid would send you."

"You're hurt." Alana's hand reached for Requiem's handle.

Arnbjorn let out a bitter laugh. "What was your first clue? Yeah, I got to admit it; that jester is pretty good with that butter knife of his. But don't worry; I gave as good as I got."

He was weak, powerless. It would be so easy for Alana to kill him now. She could even lie and say he met his death from the hands of Cicero. No one would need to know.

" _Do it,"_ Mephala urged impatiently. _"Skin him like the animal he is. Astrid would be glad to be rid of him. You wouldn't need to worry about him coming after you, either. Kill him. Kill him now!"_

' _No. I'm better than that. I refuse to let you control me any more than you already have!'_ Alana thought back angrily. She took a breath of the icy air coming off the Sea of Ghosts, steadying herself. "Where's Cicero now?"

"In there, through the door." Arnbjorn pointed with a grimace. "Some old Sanctuary, by the looks of it. I'd go in there, but I don't know the password."

Alana had the phrase from Cicero's diary, and she stepped towards him. "I have it. I'll handle Cicero. You go home." _'He's wounded, too. This makes it a lot easier.'_

Arnbjorn growled reluctantly, but he crawled to his feet with a grunt of pain. "You convinced me. Doubt I'd be much use, anyway. I don't know what you're going to find in there, but you can probably just follow the blood. Slashed him pretty good. Pretty sure I severed an artery. Just make sure you rip him apart."

"Gladly." Alana may have despised the werewolf, but they shared one thing in common.

They wanted Cicero to suffer.

Arnbjorn hobbled away, and the blonde stopped in front of the door as its mysterious rasping voice echoed in her head. _"What is life's greatest illusion?"_

"Innocence, my brother," Alana answered quietly.

" _Welcome home…"_ The door slid open, and the interior of the Sanctuary was much different from the one in Falkreath. It was larger and felt cold, and the blonde shivered, pulling the chain to deactivate the spikes barring her path.

" _Listener? Is that you?"_ Cicero weakly called out from somewhere within the Sanctuary. Alana's anger began to bubble, and she started to follow the trail of blood through the Sanctuary, all while Cicero kept his babbling. _"Of course, Astrid must have known her stupid dog wouldn't be able to kill me. She sent the best to kill sly Cicero."_

' _Keep talking, little man,'_ Alana thought angrily. _'You won't get a chance to talk after I'm finished with you.'_

She couldn't wait to tear him to pieces. The blonde started to make her way across a wooden bridge when spike traps activated and she was forced to roll under them to avoid being impaled.

" _Pointy, pointy!"_ Cicero cackled. _"My home is well defended. I've always been a stickler for details. Haha! Stickler! I slay me…"_

If it weren't for the fact that Alana hated every fiber of his being at the moment, she might've laughed at the pun.

She reached the other side without injury, and a ghostly assassin charged her. Alana gave one powerful downward slash with her zweilhander and cut through him, sending him back into the Void.

' _The Sanctuary is guarded by the souls of those who once called it home,'_ she realized. Her status as Listener wouldn't help her here. At least she could fight them and send them back to serve the Dread Father.

She made her way down the spiral staircase, cutting down another two of the Sanctuary's guardians. They let out ghostly cries of pain, and the anger inside the blonde grew thicker and thicker each time Cicero opened his mouth.

" _Alright, so I attacked that harlot Astrid! But what is a fool to do, when his mother and Listener are insulted? Could you at least slow down a little, though? I can't move as quickly as I used to."_

Alana swung her sword through a ghostly assassin with more force than necessary, and her blade cleaved through a table. _'That does it. Insulting her after trying to murder her!?'_

The desire to rip his damn throat out and watch him scream himself to death was suddenly very prevalent in her mind, and she continued past a long dining table into some kind of icy cave. Cicero's blood gave her a trail to follow, and she stopped when she saw a troll waiting for her on a ledge.

The beast roared out at her and jumped from its perch, and Alana met it with fury burning in her golden eyes. Requiem chopped the troll's arm off, spraying blood everywhere including on her dark armor.

It roared in agony, and Alana finished it off with one powerful slash to cut it in half. She rested the heavy heap of steel on her shoulder and pushed past the remains, exiting the icy cave and heading back into the Sanctuary.

Another Sanctuary ghost was waiting for her and it fell before it could even draw its sword. Blood stained the door's handle, and she kept her grip tight. It was time for her to finish this.

" _And here we are. The grand finale,"_ Cicero croaked. The blonde raised her boot up and kicked it open. Alana rested Requiem on her shoulder, her razor sharp fangs now bared as she seethed. Lying on the floor clutching his bloodied side was Cicero, and her anger reached boiling points as she closed in on the Imperial man.

Cicero lifted his head and giggled, grimacing in pain. "You caught me…I surrender."

"I'm the cure for your madness, jester," Alana said with a snarl, fury clouding everything else. Her world slowly began to turn red as she gave into her rage, and she raised her sword high. "You'll die for what you did!"

He tried to kill Astrid and take her away from her. Alana was going to make sure the bastard suffered.

"How very creative." Cicero giggled and leapt to his feet with a cackle. "Do your best, whore!"

That insult stung whether he knew it or not, and Cicero went to draw his dagger. But he was slow and clumsy, and Alana's rage boosted her Shout's power. **"Iiz Slen Nus!"**

Before the Imperial could cry out, she could see the panic flood his crazed eyes as he was frozen solid by the attack. With an angry growl that would send a dragon scurrying away, she swung her zweilhander with every bit of strength in her body, fueled by her vengeful fury. She shattered Cicero into millions of tiny shards of ice, reducing him to nothing more than dust.

The blonde let out a bitter laugh that echoed through the Sanctuary, removing her sword from the ground. "Utterly…pathetic."

Alana slid the heavy blade into her holster, her hands still trembling with anger. She had hoped that killing Cicero would be enough to burn off some of her fury. But it didn't, and she was left in a sour mood. _'That damned weasel got what he deserved. I'll kill anyone who so much as harms a hair on Serana or Astrid.'_

" _Pity I had to lose such a faithful servant,"_ Mephala said in mock sorrow, letting out a sigh. _"However, it had to be done."_

Alana was about to leave the Sanctuary when she froze in her tracks, golden eyes burning. "What did you just say? What do you mean, Cicero was your servant?" _'That doesn't make any sense! Why would she say that!?'_

She got her answer a second later, and one that she wasn't ready for.

" _You mean to tell me you still haven't realized it, you blind harlot?"_ Mephala sneered. _"I am the one who has been manipulating you all this time to your destiny. I am the Night Mother."_

Alana's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. "No…you're lying. I refuse to believe it!"

" _Believe it, girl,"_ the Daedric prince snarled, the Ebony Blade appearing in front of her, held up by some sort of magic. _"Why do you think those closest to you betrayed you? I told them to. I whispered in their ears to kill you, knowing that the curse Nocturnal placed on you would keep you alive. In time, your self-hatred would lead you to your lowest point, where you would be my toy."_

The blonde sank to her knees, eyes watering. "Why? Why did you do this!?" _'It was her all along? I should've known, and I was too busy drowning in self-loathing.'_

" _Because it's your fate, Alana,"_ Mephala replied. _"And to think you were chosen by Akatosh. Pathetic, weak little child."_

"Stop it, stop it!" Alana covered her ears as the taunts went on, and she charged forward with a despaired yell. Her sword struck the Ebony Blade, and she was thrown back onto the floor as if the motionless blade had bashed back. She tumbled, and she slowly got to her feet with tears streaming down her face.

" _Run all you want. It's too late for you, Alana. You are my puppet now, and I'll have my way with you whenever I desire."_ The Daedric weapon faded away, possibly being absorbed into Mephala's realm, and the blonde wiped her face.

Knowing that she had been manipulated for months hurt. But, she had to stay strong, for those she still had. _'I need to talk to Astrid, as soon as possible.'_

She had to let her mistress know exactly what was going on with Mephala and protect her from the Daedra's evil plans. The blonde ran out of the Sanctuary and clambered onto Shadowmere's back. "To Falkreath, quickly!"

Sensing her desperation, Shadowmere snorted and took off in a gallop, kicking up snow.

She hoped she wasn't too late to warn her.

* * *

Astrid saw Alana enter the Sanctuary, and she noticed the alarm in her eyes. "You're back. Well, is that cursed jester dead?" _'Something's not right. She looks as though she's been revealed a horrible secret.'_

"He is." Alana nodded, and she took a seat next to her with a heavy sigh. "I need to warn you about the Night Mother. Who she really is."

"Oh?" Astrid's eyebrow rose, and she was now listening with keen interest. "What do you mean by that? Care to explain?"

Alana ran a hand through her hair, her gaze heavy. "The Night Mother…is the Daedric Prince of lies, sex, plot, and murder. It's Mephala."

"You can't be serious." Astrid shook her head, not wanting to believe it. "You must be mistaken. There's no way that's true." _'No. I refuse to believe that's true. She has to be joking. There's no way the Night Mother is a daedra.'_

"I wish it was a joke." Alana let out a bitter laugh, eyes bright with pain. "Mephala said it was painful for her to lose a servant like Cicero, and she revealed herself to be the one who manipulated me into coming here."

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked, leaning to stroke her hair.

Alana laid her head down in Astrid's lap, wiping her eyes. "She told them all to betray me. She wanted to drive me here, to be her servant. Like the idiot I was, I helped her succeed. I was nothing but a puppet. Gods, I'm such a damn fool."

"No, she didn't succeed." Astrid shook her head, admiring the softness of her golden locks. "She wanted to break you, didn't she? And you haven't. You stayed strong. This Sanctuary would be dead without you. We all owe you a debt of gratitude."

Alana lifted her head, letting out a small laugh. "You know how to make a girl feel special. For whatever it happens to be worth, thanks. Where's Serana?"

"She went to Whiterun with Nazir," Astrid answered. "The two of them are planning to cook some sort of grand feast in honor of you slaying Cicero."

"You never told me that Nazir liked to cook."

"You never asked."

It was nice to see the woman smile. For far too long, Astrid had seen Alana drowning in self-loathing, constantly hating herself. Now the vampire was carrying herself so much differently. The sorrow was gone and replaced with a sense of icy determination. Whatever she did in Markarth helped her out tremendously.

Alana sat up, her golden gaze fixed firmly onto the blonde leader. "Astrid…I want you to be honest with me. How do you feel towards me? I've been a victim of common lust before, and I have no desire to return to it."

Astrid thought carefully about the words that next came out of her mouth. "I'm drawn towards you, obviously. Very much. I can promise you, it's not as simple as lust. It's a little more…complicated." _'I'm physically drawn to her; I know that well enough. But what is it that makes me want her so much?'_

Alana was quiet, and for a moment Astrid wondered if she insulted her without meaning to. However, after a pregnant pause Alana let out a sigh, combing her hair back with her hand. "Same here…I don't understand if I'm just lusting after you or if it's something more. Ugh, that sounds really bad when I say it aloud. The Bards College would have a field day with it."

Even in a slightly tense situation like this, Astrid couldn't help but chuckle. "Maybe. The tragic love story of the assassin, the moody vampire swordswoman, and her sarcastic friend. I bet it would sell thousands of copies within months of its release."

Alana scoffed, giving her a look. "Who are you calling moody?" If it weren't for the amused look in her golden eyes, one would think she was annoyed.

"You," Astrid said teasingly. "Even though you've changed since coming back from Markarth, you still sound like someone who lost their dog."

The blonde vampire rolled her eyes. "I take it back. You have a way with words that sometimes make me question my life choices."

It was nice hearing sarcasm drip into her voice instead of pain. Astrid smirked and feigned a dramatic sigh. "Oh, now you've gone and hurt this poor poet's feelings. Whatever shall I do?"

"Whatever your heart desires, mistress." Alana stood and unclipped her zweilhander from her holster, resting the heavy heap of steel against the wall. She gave her a sly look, undoing her cape and pulling off her gloves. "Take that however you want."

Astrid watched the vampire's movements with a groan of want. They were slow and deliberate, and the blonde growled. She was throwing her own damn methods right back into her face.

That cheeky bitch.

Alana seemed to notice Astrid's growing frustration as she undressed, and she put a hand on her hip with a smirk. "What's the matter? Can't stand a dose of your own potion?"

Dammit. Now she was getting too bold for her own good. Perhaps that was her plan all along; to frustrate Astrid into pinning her against the wall and ruthlessly shagging her. If it was her objective, then she definitely succeeded.

Astrid couldn't take any more of the blonde vampire's taunts and she shoved her against the wall. Alana struggled briefly, but soon her arms were pinned above her head. "Got impatient, did we? You never struck me as the type to wait around."

"And you never struck me as the one to be sarcastic in bed." Astrid covered her lips with a flurry of hot kisses. Alana returned them with a weak whimper, her hands struggling to undo the belts of Astrid's armor. Her bare stomach was so much more developed than Astrid's; Alana wasn't overly muscular like Arnbjorn, but the tone on her body was remarkable. It was beautiful, seeing the blonde's muscle tone. She was naturally cut thanks to her usage of heavy weapons, and Astrid ran her hands over her abdomen with a low growl.

"Like what you see?" Alana whispered teasingly.

Astrid responded with a sharp nip to her collarbone, and she grinned at Alana's moan. "Oh, someone is a very naughty minx. I expected that of you."

Alana let out a mewl of protest as Astrid rubbed her knee between her pale legs. "A-astrid!" She finished tearing off the rest of her mistress's armor and her golden eyes glazed over with hunger as she took in Astrid's lithe frame. "Oh Talos you're beautiful."

"Such flattery will get you nowhere, dear."

"Only flattery if it isn't true."

Astrid smirked. Alana was open now. Before she would've pulled away and slunk off to be miserable by herself. Now, she seemed more than content to let Astrid do whatever she wanted to her.

Astrid's fingers hooked around the silky fabric of her undergarments, and with one quick movement they were down. The vampire was completely bare from the waist down and she made no attempts to cover herself. Instead, she opened her legs to invite Astrid's hand to play with her exposed sex.

Astrid took her up on that offer.

Her fingers slipped inside of her, and Alana threw her head back with a moan that was quickly silenced by Astrid's lips. Her tongue fought for entry, and she complied, letting Astrid's tongue inside to dominate her oral cavern.

Astrid's tongue easily explored her mouth, and the simple fact that Alana didn't put up any resistance was enough to show her that she was submissive.

She liked submissive.

The blonde began to move her fingers back and forth, Alana letting out muffled moans. Her spare hand squeezed one of Alana's covered breasts to give her more excitement, and was rewarded by another moan. Alana began moving her hips into her movements to get more pleasure, her body trembling.

Astrid bit down on the vampire's lower lip, dragging away from their heated kisses and curling her fingers inside.

Alana's eyes were wide, and she wrapped her legs around her waist with a whine of pleasure. "Astrid~!"

Astrid's fingers plunged deeper and deeper into her, reaching the spots that probably hadn't been touched in several weeks. She loved seeing how the same woman who was a fiery brash warrior was turning into a puddle in her very hands. "You sound so beautiful moaning my name, you know. I'd love to hear more of it."

Astrid leaned and nibbled on her neck, and Alana couldn't take any more of it. Her insides clenched down on her slender digits, mouth open in a shrill cry of ecstasy. "Astrid~!"

Her eyes squeezed shut when her hips bucked up and she rode out her release. Astrid removed her lips from her neck, having left a bright red mark, and removed her fingers. "Would you look at that? You made them all messy."

Alana's pale cheeks were flushed, and she took them into her mouth. Her wet tongue swirled around her fingers, cleaning them up. She finished with a loud pop, rubbing the mark on her neck. "Was that really necessary? I look like I got attacked by a vampire."

"Ironic, isn't it?" Astrid smirked. "How do you feel?"

"Better than I have in a long time," Alana answered quietly, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling her in for a gentle kiss.

Both of them were so wrapped up enjoying each other after their moments of passion that neither noticed a pair of angry yellow eyes stalk out of the Sanctuary.

* * *

The Dunmer's long silver hair flowed behind him, and he knelt before the statue of his goddess. All around him lay the bodies of his fellow supporters, yet none of them truly had her favor. He had proven himself as the strongest by slaying all of them in combat, using his superior swordsmanship and magic.

"My goddess, as you can see, I am alive because I willed it to be so. There is proof of my handiwork, such as the blood dripping from my blade."

" _Rise, my champion,"_ the goddess commanded. The Dunmer rose, and in front of him was a woman with blonde hair and bright golden eyes. _"You have proven yourself to be a mighty warrior. Ruthless, cunning, and skilled. You have earned my favor. Use my gifts to eliminate the traitorous bitch who has dared to strike her sword against my sister."_

The silver-haired elf smirked as a long odachi, the blade Masamune, appeared in his hands. A single black wing grew from his back, and he nodded. "As you command…."

"Boethiah."

 _ **A/N: So, smut over, and new villain introduced! Hope you can see where the inspiration for him was from XD. Comments are always welcome. Until next time!**_

 _ **Discord: C. Strife #5371**_


	12. It Speaks To Her

_**A/N: Chapter 12. With the completion of this chapter, only four more left to go. The finale is approaching soon. I do plan on changing the Dark Brotherhood questline a bit. We've all played it and know that Astrid ends up nice and crispy as a result of being a traitor. Well…fuck that. She's hot lol.**_

 _ **I hope you all had a good Christmas!**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***It Speaks to Her***

Serana didn't know what was less surprising; the fact that she had spotted Alana in bed with Astrid, or that Nazir was grumbling about losing a bet with Gabriella about who would be the one to have claimed dominance.

"Unbelievable," the Redguard muttered dryly. "Gets divorced, and what is the first thing she does? Beds a vampire."

"I don't know anyone else who would do the same thing," Serana returned sarcastically, looking towards a sleeping Alana. The blonde warrior was lying with her head on Astrid's chest, a very faint smile on her face as she slept. Serana's heart warmed at the sight. How long had it been since Alana was actually able to sleep in peace without the fear of a dagger plunging into the throat of herself or Serana?

"Not the point and you know it." Nazir rolled his dark eyes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a feast to prepare. As heartwarming as this sight is, I sadly have to get cooking that apple cabbage stew before Festus and Babette start sabotaging our purchase."

"You mean, 'fruits of our murder'," Serana corrected with a smirk.

Nazir sighed at the horrible pun, rubbing his temples on his way out. "I'm not even going to dignify that one with a response. If for some reason your insatiable thirst starts prodding at you, make sure to close the damned doors; I don't want Arnbjorn storming through the Sanctuary attempting to decapitate all three of you."

"You're no fun today."

Nazir muttered something under his breath about accursed amorous vampires as he left, and Serana shut the door to prevent further intrusions. _'Hopefully we can actually be alone.'_

She sauntered over to the sleeping blondes, leaning down to gently blow on Alana's neck. The blonde stirred a little, clinging onto Astrid's slender frame with a soft whine of protest. Seeing her like this made it hard to believe that it was the same woman who once hated herself and could leap into battle with all the ferocity of an angered sabre cat.

Serana's lips left a slow flurry of kisses from Alana's ears down to her collarbone, and the sleeping vampire reluctantly blinked one golden eye open. She let out a yawn, her voice thick with sleep. "S-serana?"

"Mind scooting over?" Serana whispered, tugging off her armor. "Been a long day."

Alana nodded, and she moved her body over to let Serana fall in the elegant bed beside her. It was large enough for all three of them to be comfortable in without feeling claustrophobic, and she buried her face into the crook of Alana's neck.

"You know, you could've at least waited for me to bed her together," she murmured, wrapped her arms around her body.

"I know," Alana admitted, guilt lacing her tone. "I didn't intend on it at first. But…I learned something. Mephala…she told them to kill me. All of them. My own wife…"

She buried her head into Serana's shoulder, and she petted the blonde's hair with a frown. Something about this didn't seem right. _'What? Why would Mephala reveal that to her? What is she trying to do?'_

Mephala wasn't like Dagon or Azura. Her strength was almost exclusively in her realm of Oblivion. Besides, brute strength wasn't her specialty. She preferred the art of manipulation as opposed to outright attacking, like Dagon or Molag Bal.

Then it hit her. _'That little bitch. She's trying to get Alana to fight her in her own realm! Take the fight right into the Spiral Skein itself, where her true power is!'_

"I know what she's doing," she whispered. "She's making you angry on purpose."

Alana lifted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Mephala's real strength is in her own realm, the Spiral Skein," Serana explained. "She doesn't have the power to manifest on Nirn for long periods of time. She's smart, likes to play from the shadows. She's trying to get you to go to her to strike, to fight through all of the eight sinful layers."

Alana sat up, not covering her bare chest, and she touched her shoulder. Part of it looked swollen from some kind of injury, and her golden eyes burned angrily. "That bitch…I'm going to kill her."

She made to get up out of bed, but Serana refused to let her go. She pushed the blonde back down, pinning her arms above her head. "Don't. You'll end up playing right into her hands. How do you even expect to get into the Skein?"

The fire in Alana's eyes burned brightly, and her voice was little more than a growl. "Molag Bal. I'll go in via Coldharbour."

"You can't be serious!" Serana hissed. "You'd end up trapped!"

"He'd allow it, because I'm too valuable for him to lose," Alana countered. Even though she was stronger than Serana by a long shot, she made no move to throw her off. "Either that, or I'll go to the Dreaming Cave in the Summerset Isles and kill any Altmer who gets in my way. It matters little to me."

"Think about this," Serana urged. "You're her favorite toy in centuries! She's tried to sleep with you, for Talos' sake. If you lose, you'll be trapped there in her web."

Alana looked away, swallowing a lump. "I can't run away from my sins anymore, Serana. I need to face them. And that means I'll have to confront her. I'm not saying right now; don't give me that look. But I'll have to take her on eventually; otherwise, she'll order attacks on you and Astrid until she forces my hand. I'm not losing either of you while my heart still beats."

Serana released her, and Alana got out of bed to put on her armor. "I'm going to go speak with Festus about the next part of the plan for the Emperor." Her back was turned to Serana, the vampire unable to see her face, but she was sure Alana's anger was still boiling.

She'd have to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't do anything reckless. She believed her when she said she would wait to confront the Daedra, but she knew Alana; the blonde was prone to acting on her anger instead of with a cooler head.

Serana fell back into bed once Alana left, and she rested her arm behind her head with a sigh. "You can stop pretending to be asleep, you know." _'She heard everything. I know she did.'_

Astrid blinked her eyes open with a reluctant growl. "A new visitor in my bed? I'm not sure whether to be flattered or ashamed."

Serana rolled her eyes at the teasing tone, not in the mood to joke at the moment. "You heard everything. Don't try and lie; I know you were awake once I got in."

Astrid scoffed, and she sat up. "I did. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just told her all this information about her enemy. The layers of sin she'd have to fight through. Do you really think she's not going to act?" Astrid pressed. "You said it yourself; she prefers to swing her sword first and ask questions later. That kind of attitude is exactly what Mephala wants."

Serana narrowed her eyes. "She's rash, but not stupid. I don't think she'll act now." Her gaze looked to where Alana left, and she sighed.

"Besides…I think she's still trying to get used to a very sickening revelation."

* * *

Alana's gaze was on the floor as she slowly trudged through the Sanctuary. Knowing her loved ones and friends betrayed her because of Mephala's influence hurt. It hurt her even more knowing that she killed them when it wasn't their fault. _'All this time…she manipulated me into doing exactly what she wants. I killed those I trusted. Oh gods, I'm so sorry. Brynjolf was trying to free me from her; he risked eternal damnation by Nocturnal for me.'_

' _Camilla…she must have heard her whispers. She was being controlled by her, too. All of them.'_

She wanted to fall to her knees in despair and cry. Everything hurt so much. _'I thought they were doing it because they wanted me dead. But they were being controlled by Mephala the entire time. What does that make me?'_

' _What do you think it makes you? It makes you nothing more than an empty puppet,'_ a nasty voice said in her head. _'You didn't even stop to question it. You assumed it was because of Nocturnal's curse, not the Daedra who loves toying with mortals. You acted exactly how she wanted you to.'_

She shut her eyes and covered her ears in a vain attempt to block it out. But it was still there, taunting at her. _'Shut up, shut up!'_

' _Aw, what's the matter? Does it hurt, knowing how much blood is on your hands? The amount of pain you've caused? Then give in. Give in to your pain and hatred.'_

Her right arm trembled, and she was frozen in horror as it transformed into a mutated three-fingered monstrosity in front of her very eyes. It was red in color, with thick veins pulsing and throbbing throughout its length. She clutched it as it spasmed, and when she blinked, it was back to normal.

The muscles in her dominant arm ached, and she flexed her fingers. There was no trace of what she had just seen her hand turn into, and she shook her head, her breaths coming out fast and panicked. "What's happening to me?" _'What was that? By the gods, what's going on?'_

"Hey, are you feeling alright, Listener?" Veezara's voice startled her, and the blonde immediately had her zweilhander out and ready to cut through his scaly body. The Shadowscale put his hands up, backing away from the huge blade. "Easy, there. You've been through enough already. I just wanted to make sure you're fine."

Alana relaxed her stance, lowering her sword. "I'm fine, Veezara. Thank you." It was a lie; the revelation of just how much innocent blood was on her hands hurt her already fragile mental state, and it seemed her very soul was trying to corrupt her into being a vessel of despair. _'No, I'm not fine. Something's seriously wrong with me.'_

' _Stay strong. You've got too much to lose now.'_

She couldn't help but feel guilty that she slept with Astrid. True, both her and Serana were planning on doing it sometime in the future. But, it was something they were meant to do together.

Mephala was sure to touch herself in excitement once she found out about the blonde's act of infidelity. _'I shouldn't have done what I did. I needed that distraction, but at the same time…'_

' _No point in beating myself up about it. What's done is done. Accept what I've done and move on from it.'_

"Where's Festus?" she asked, slicking back some of her hair. There was still the plot to assassinate the Emperor to worry about, and it was her duty to carry out the plan.

"In the back, using the enchanting table." Veezara pointed behind him with a scaly thumb. "Be careful, Listener; I may not be the one who hears our Lady's words, but my senses are sharp enough to know something isn't right about this situation."

Alana tried not to bristle at the mention of the Night Mother. However, she was sure her anger flashed in her eyes, for even the Shadowscale backed away uneasily from her. The blonde stalked towards the old wizard, her fangs bared in a snarl. _'That bitch is dead. She ruined my life for the thrill of it. I'll cut her damn legs off one by one!'_

Entering Mephala's realm of Oblivion would be the tricky part of exacting her revenge. Oblivion planes were impossible for mortals to enter, and she was sure that the Skein would require a sacrifice of some kind, just like the Soul Cairn required a payment of blood.

Molag Bal could send her to it given her pact with the Lord of Domination, however he wouldn't be thrilled about it. He'd probably demand some kind of payment as well; he'd ask for Alana to offer up Astrid to him, and the thought of condemning her to a fate of being raped to undeath by a Daedric Prince made her stomach churn. _'No. There has to be another way to enter it.'_

' _Could Dibella grant me the power?'_ she thought. The Aedra were considerably weaker than the Daedra, but Dibella herself still held a considerable amount of power. _'No. I couldn't. That would drain her of her remaining power.'_

Her options were limited, and all of them had extra baggage holding them down. _'Dammit.'_ Her frustration and anger were reaching dangerous levels. She needed to burn off some of her negativity while striking back at Mephala. _'Is there a shrine dedicated to her in Skyrim?'_

Alana walked over to Festus, rubbing her sore arm. She was using a much heavier weapon than normal now, and undead or not, she still wasn't used to Requiem's weight and how much of her strength she was using. She didn't want to admit it, but her strength did have its limits.

Festus looked up from the enchanting table, his wrinkled features set in a scowl. "There you are. Took your sweet time getting rid of that damned clown, didn't you? But enough of that. You have heard of the Gourmet, I assume."

"The famous chef out of Cyrodiil?" Alana knew that name well; everyone in Tamriel did. "Of course. Why?"

"Well, the Gourmet is scheduled to cook a special dinner for the Emperor," Festus said with a smirk. "You'll slit his throat, steal the Writ of Passage, and assume the role of master chef. However, no one knows who the Gourmet is. It could be a woman, for all we know."

Alana chose not to say anything, listening for the next part. The old wizard chuckled, and he held out a book. It was the Gourmet's own cookbook, sighed and autographed to someone by the name of Anton Virane.

"I tracked Virane to Markarth; he's the head chef there, passing off the Gourmet's recipes as his own," Festus said. "He'll know who the Gourmet really is and where he can be found. And when you're done with Virane…kill him. Loose ends and all that."

Alana nodded, and the old wizard smirked. "Good. Now, get going."

The blonde turned away from him and left. Perhaps on the way, she could find out information about a shrine to Mephala somewhere in Skyrim and destroy it to vent some anger.

However, she felt a slight burning at the back of her throat. She needed to feed again. _'Dammit. I need a drink.'_ She nearly jumped out of her skin when icy hands touched her arm, and she found herself looking into the three hundred year old eyes of Babette.

"Listener…are you thirsty?" she asked. It was really difficult for Alana to process that while Babette looked ten years old, she was in fact centuries older than herself. "Your eyes have that gleam."

"Is it that obvious?" Alana let out a slightly bitter laugh. "I must be losing my touch."

"No. You're more open now," Babette replied. "Before, I couldn't tell that you were starving yourself. You were withdrawn, not letting us get close. But recently…you've changed. Astrid got you to open up to this dysfunctional excuse of a family."

"I guess I have." Alana cracked a small smile, trying not to grimace as she flexed her sword arm. _'Dammit. Been awhile since I've actually pushed myself this hard.'_

Babette's gaze flickered to it, and she pulled out a small red potion. "Here. This'll help ease the soreness."

Alana took the potion gratefully, taking a sip of it. "Thank you, Babette. I appreciate it." She wiped a little trickle away with the back of her hand, the soreness fading away with the potion taking effect on her. "You wouldn't happen to know of any shrines to Mephala, would you?"

Babette frowned. "I can only think of one. It's hidden in Whiterun, near Brittleshin Pass. Why do you ask?"

Alana felt her exposed arm, her golden eyes cold enough to freeze a Dremora in its tracks. "I have a little personal business to take care of regarding her." _'I got you, you bitch. I'm going to hit you where it hurts. It's time you tasted the same pain I did.'_

She was going to relish in hurting Mephala. However, that part of her being was back again to taunt her. _'What happened to being a protector instead of a killer?'_

' _I'm doing this to protect those I care about!'_

' _Are you? Because it seems like petty revenge to me. Your anger and hatred is once again fueling you.'_

Another flash of red, and once again that gnarled claw was back. The blonde squeezed her wrist, shutting her eyes tightly. _'No…I will not surrender to that nightmare!'_

Again, the hallucination disappeared, and she shook her head before heading outside. "This is madness…just what in Oblivion is that?" _'Why do I keep seeing my hand transform like that? It isn't like my Vampire Lord transformation at all. I don't get it.'_

If she didn't start getting answers soon she was probably going to slowly fall into the pits of madness like Cicero, and she had no desire to be as demented as that irritating jester. She was glad she killed him more and more with each minute. No longer would she have to fear about someone plunging a dagger into her chest while she slept.

Shadowmere was waiting for her by his shadowy pool and he trotted over to her. The dark steed let out a snort, gently nibbling at her slender fingers.

"Hey, boy." Alana petted his face. "You don't mind if we take a little detour first, do you?"

Shadowmere replied with a shake of his head, his hooves scuffing the ground. He was eager to go; Astrid mentioned to her that he hadn't been ridden as frequently as a steed of his capabilities should be and told her to keep him for awhile, seeing as he had taken a liking to her.

"That's good. We're going to Whiterun first, then we'll head to Markarth." Alana mounted him and Shadowmere let out a neigh, rearing up on his powerful hind legs.

Off to Whiterun Hold.

* * *

When Alana arrived at the supposed location of the shrine, she dismounted Shadowmere and drew her sword. Her golden eyes were searching for any signs of movement, and she was on high alert.

"Shadowmere, stay back. No matter what, don't come after me," she instructed. The large horse replied with an irritated huff, and he scraped the ground. He wasn't happy about being told not to interfere; according to Astrid the horse was a season fighter, capable of fighting against much stronger opponents thanks to his incredible regeneration powers and endurance.

However, this was her fight and hers alone.

Alana headed into the hills, and her golden eyes blazed with fury when she saw the statue of the Daedra who ruined her life. "Mephala…you'll pay for what you've done to me."

" _Oh, spare me the sob story,"_ Mephala said with a scoff. _"You cannot harm me here, now or ever."_ Two Oblivion portals appeared, and out of them came spider Daedra. They were as big as a Frostbite Spider, and their pinchers clicked at her.

" _Kill her."_

The two creatures leapt at her with high-pitched shrieks, and the blonde raised her sword to meet them. One powerful downward swing cleaved through one of the Daedra. Blood and bits of legs flew around her and before she could remove her sword from its disappearing carcass, the second one struck her in the chest.

She tumbled down the hill and got up, wiping a bit of blood from her lip. The wound on her chest was thankfully shallow and was already starting to heal, but the Daedra leapt down at her again.

Alana rolled under it and sprinted towards her sword, yanking it from the remains. With an angry battle yell she swung, and sliced off the Daedra's legs. It fell onto its back with a scream of pain, and the blonde took great pleasure in sinking her heavy blade through its chest.

Alana removed her zweilhander and rested it on her shoulder, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Is that it? I'm almost insulted."

Taunting a Daedric Prince was borderline suicidal; usually it ended with complete torture in Oblivion. But, Mephala was petty. She made it clear she wanted Alana to suffer.

The Daedra hissed in anger, and two more of her spider servants appeared. _"Damn you. Suffer!"_

Alana smirked. Everything went as she planned for once. "Got you."

The blonde quickly disposed of her two attackers, using her brash and aggressive fighting style to hit them hard before they could counter. She stepped over their bodies and stared at the stone statue of the Lady of Whispers. It was beautifully maintained, without a single chip on its stony surface.

"I hope this hurts." A dangerous red aura cloaked her body, and she swung Requiem with all of her anger behind it. The heavy sword hit the statue, and it shattered.

Alana could hear Mephala's pained scream of anger as the shrine was destroyed. _"You bitch! You'll pay for this! I'll make sure to turn you into my whore for eternity!"_

The blonde finished her task, and she spat out at the ruined statue. "You won't control me anymore!"

" _Yes…you have done well,"_ a quiet voice whispered.

Alana readied her sword again, eyes searching for whoever it was that spoke. "Who's there!? Show yourself!"

" _I have been waiting for someone like you to come by, warrior of the night. Time after time again warriors have used my power to destroy anything that dared to get in the way of their tasks, conquering even pain itself,"_ it whispered.

Against her better judgment, Alana walked over towards where the voice came from. "What…are you?"

Her foot hit something hard and cold, and she looked down to see an unusual set of heavy black armor. It didn't look to be made out of ebony or Daedric metal; in fact, it looked like a type of black steel. _'A set of armor, talking to me?'_

" _I am the armor that many have donned, all who became unstoppable. Including your own ancestor, the Black Swordsman,"_ it replied. _"Wear me, and everything you set out to do, you will succeed."_

Alana ran a hand over its surface. It was eerily cold to the touch, and she gasped. "You're…what are you!?" _'Impossible…this has to be possessed by something!'_

" _Wear me, and you'll find yourself capable of even more impressive feats,"_ it urged.

Alana shook her head, backing away. "No…you can't be real. You're just a figment of my imagination."

" _I am very real, girl. My power will allow you to never feel pain as long as I am active."_

The thought of having armor that protected her from pain seemed advantageous in her quest to make the bitch pay for what she did. The blonde made up her mind and picked it up, putting the heavy chest piece on.

Despite it being made of dark metal, it was surprisingly light. She was able to move around in it fairly easily, and she was confused. "Is…something supposed to happen?"

" _All in due time, child. A test suitable for someone of high skill such as yourself is approaching."_

" _For now…you have a task to accomplish."_

Alana couldn't help but feel an unfamiliar wave of fear crawl down her spine.

 _ **A/N: Yep…armor upgrade XD. Have to have the new armor to match the new sword, right? But, just what exactly is it going to do to her?**_

 _ **Well, you know me XD. It's gonna be torturous. See you soon!**_


	13. Never Forget

_**A/N: Well, chapter 13. If there's one thing I'm sad about, it's this story nearing completion. I've really enjoyed writing Alana as a protagonist, even if she is a total moody edgelord XD. Maybe I just love putting my characters through hell.**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Never Forget***

When Alana found Anton Virane in the Keep's kitchen, the chef was verbally abusing two of his assistants. His scruffy features gave him the appearance of a Reachman despite his Breton name, and the blonde's golden gaze darkened when she heard him threatening to use his assistant's dog in the next stew he made if she messed up again.

Anton saw Alana approaching, and he crossed his arms with an irritated huff, sending his two assistants into their quarters. "Yes, yes. For the last time I am a Breton! Not a filthy Reachman! I was born in High Rock, not this deplorable dump of a city!"

Alana scoffed. "I know who you are, and I don't particularly care. Where's the Gourmet?"

"T-the Gourmet?" Anton's eyes widened in shock and he shook his head vehemently. His eyes burning with defiance, yet the vampire could hear a hint of fear creep into his tone now that he knew someone had found out his secret. "Never! I'll never tell you! I'll take that secret right to the grave!"

Alana exposed her fangs, razor sharp and ready to plunge into the soft flesh of his throat. "For the Dark Brotherhood, that can very easily be arranged." Her pink tongue flickered over her elongated canines, and horror flooded the Breton's eyes as he realized just what kind of monster was standing in front of him.

"W-wait!" he pleaded. "The Gourmet is Balagog gro-Nolob. An Orc! He's an Orc, staying at the Nightingate Inn! Y-you'll let me go, right?"

"Afraid not. Can't have any loose ends. Nothing personal, Anton. It's just business." Before he could open his mouth to scream, Alana lunged forward and sank her teeth into his neck. Her golden eyes gleamed brightly as the rich savory taste of the Breton's blood flowed over her tongue. By no means was she starved of blood, but she didn't release him from her iron grip until his body stopped twitching. She pulled her lips away, licking a few scarlet droplets off of them, and dropped his corpse onto the floor. His remaining blood slowly pooled out of the bite wounds like a lazy crimson river, and Alana left it behind. Maybe now the two natives of the Reach working in the kitchens would find peace now, without Anton constantly abusing them.

' _So, the Gourmet is an Orc. Huh. I figured he'd either be an Altmer or a Breton,'_ she thought as she descended the smooth carved steps of the keep. _'No. Altmer are too snobby to be bothered to make dishes aimed at the common folk of Tamriel. They think only of themselves and no one else. Arrogant bastards. It would make more sense if the Gourmet was a Breton.'_

She didn't pay any attention to the guards as she left the keep behind. Her hand touched the handle of her sword, and she shielded her eyes as the blazing sun attacked her vampirism. She let out a pained hiss, keeping to the shade as much as she could. _'Damned sun. I wish it was night already; I could walk freely without having to hide in the shadows.'_

Even her new armor wasn't enough to prevent her limbs from feeling as though they were being reduced to ash. The vampire bit her lip, drawing blood, and she hugged her cape tightly around her body in a lame attempt to shield herself from the burning hateful glare of the sun's powerful rays.

She was still uneasy about the new suit of armor she was currently wearing. It wasn't as tight as her Dark Brotherhood armor; the joints were quite flexible and bent easily despite it being a little roomy around her chest and back, and it was stronger than any kind of normal metal. It was almost daedric in its appearance and strength, yet it didn't have the trademark red glow of a daedra's blood running through it.

But, she couldn't shake off the fact that the armor appeared to be sentient. It called out to her, and actively sought her out as the next person to wear it. It didn't have the sickly sweet and seductive purr of Mephala that violated her thoughts so frequently. It was cold, uncaring. Like that of a demon from the horrible nightmares that often plagued her whenever she slept.

And then there was her arm.

Alana looked at her right arm with a storm of worry brewing in her eyes. _'Why is it doing that? Am I literally fighting against myself trying to atone for the sins I've committed? Or is it punishment for failing to realize who the one pulling the strings really was?'_ She curled her fingers into the palm of her hand, the nails digging in deep into the skin and spilling more of her blood. Tiny crimson rivers snaked down her wrist, dripping onto the ground to form a puddle below.

Her arm wasn't showing any signs of transforming into the hideous red monstrosity that flashed before her eyes twice in the Sanctuary while she was on the road to Markarth. It looked the same as it always had, with a few new scars she gained weeks prior to obtaining Requiem.

Still, it bothered her greatly. It seemed to only appear whenever she was filled with some kind of negativity, and she couldn't help but feel as though it would eventually stop being a hallucination and become a reality, if she became filled with enough anger.

She had to keep a cool head, and that was sadly something she was not good at. Alana was always someone who was brash and fought harder the angrier she got; during a battle at Fort Sungard, after most of her battalion had been killed by the enemy, she gave into her hatred of the Empire and fought back with berserker levels of savagery. Her greatsword cut bloody swathes through countless Imperial soldiers, even though she had been seriously wounded during the battle. Arrows were sticking out of her ruined Stormcloak armor, both arms had been dislocated, and still she fought to claim a victory for Ulfric's troops despite the amount of blood she had lost.

It was also the only time prior to her gaining her vampiric abilities that she actually had to be knocked unconscious in order to be subdued. According to their commanding officer, she was beginning to teeter on the edge of mindless bloodlust, and as wounded as she was, it would've resulted in her death. The decision was made to knock her out with a nonlethal dosage of poison before she hurt herself or her fellow Stormcloaks.

When she came to, she was wounded enough for Ulfric to postpone the assault on Fort Snowhawk for three weeks to let her recover. She was lucky that her injuries weren't permanent.

Alana sighed and continued to keep to the shadows as she made her way through Markarth's streets. Even though her name throughout the Reach was cleared and Dibella again blessed her, she always felt uneasy going through the city. She couldn't help but remember the first time she met Molag Bal in the abandoned house below, how he made her beat a priest of Boethiah into submission with a rusty mace. Just thinking of the Lord of Domination made her shiver in fear, and memories of being submitted to hours of endless torture in Coldharbour flooded her mind.

She could remember it so vividly, how she curled up in the fetal position sobbing and pleading for him to stop as she was violated into undeath. His taunts rang in her ears that day, and it was then when she felt truly powerless. Her gift of the Voice meant nothing back then. Her pact with Nocturnal meant nothing, as she didn't step in to prevent it from happening.

The Daedra didn't care about mortals unless they happened to amuse them. That was the harsh lesson she learned. Nocturnal didn't care about her, unless she amused her. Brynjolf tried to set her free from the horrible fate of being nothing more than a Daedric puppet, and yet she murdered him to Mephala's sick delight.

' _How can I ever atone for that? I've caused more death by myself in the name of the Daedra than anyone else in Skyrim,'_ she thought sullenly, brushing past a city guard without giving the woman as much as a glance. _'I'm not going to run from them, but I can't see how I can truly repent for the things I've done.'_

' _Baby steps. Try and do what needs to be done, nothing more, and nothing less.'_ Her sins were like the Adamantine Tower in High Rock, towering high over her head and piercing the very clouds. But she'd be damned if she wasn't going to at least try to make things a little better. Not just for herself, but for those she hadn't lost yet.

She still had a lot to fight for and she wasn't going to let the hope of finally having happiness, however minute, burn into nothing. _'I have too much to fight for now. I've found both love and a family, as dysfunctional it may be. I'm not losing either while I'm still alive.'_

" _That's right, girl,"_ her armor murmured. _"You have something you hold very dear to your heart, something that drove you to declare war on a Daedric Prince. You have a lot worth spilling blood for."_

The blonde felt her shoulder, flexing it. She now knew who the Gourmet was and where he was hiding. All she had to do now was go to Nightingate Inn and dispose of the master chef as quietly as she could and recover his Writ of Passage. After that, everything would fall into place.

She passed by the meat stall ran by Hogni, and her heightened sense of smell picked up the scent of fresh blood dripping from the meat. The Nord man grinned as she approached, trying to wave a slice of meat in front of her. "Hello, pretty lady. How about a nice cut of venison or mutton?"

Alana stopped, her golden eyes narrowed as she looked at it. _'That's not venison or beef. It smells like…it is! It's human flesh!'_ Her time in Castle Volkihar meant she knew the smell of human flesh when she saw it, and right in front of her was a cannibalistic vendor trying to sell her some.

"I know what that is. That is not meat from an animal," she said quietly.

Hogni's smile was replaced with a snarl. "W-what!?"

Alana folded her arms across her chest. "You might be able to fool the other brainless half-wits who call this deplorable craggy wretch of a city their home, but I am not a fool. I know human flesh when I see it, and on your stall is just that." She could practically taste the man's fear now. His secret was revealed, and Alana was well aware of a crowd beginning to gather.

A woman in tavern clothes retched, clutching her stomach and falling on all fours. "Y-you sold me human meat!?"

"W-what!? No, of course not!" Hogni said, his face getting redder and redder as more and more people surrounded him. The air was now thick with the collective anger of the city's inhabitants, and Alana felt her arm tremble again.

A tall Nord clad in the fur armor of an officer pushed his way through the crowd, his battleaxe gleaming in the sunlight. "Hogni, you're under arrest for cannibalism. Don't think you're going to get away with just serving some time in Cidhna Mine. Your head is going to roll off of the headsman's block. You'll never see the light of day again."

"No, please!" Hogni pleaded as two more of the guards grabbed him by his beefy arms. "You have to believe me! I'd never do such a thing! She's lying!"

Alana watched as he was dragged through the streets, screaming and pleading for his life to be spared. There was no guilt in her heart; the only thing there was the calm resolve that she had done the right thing by ridding the city of a cannibalistic psychopath without unnecessary bloodshed.

The Stormcloak officer who arrived first on the scene looked at the blonde warrior. "You have my thanks for bringing this to my atten—"

He stopped, and his eyes widened in shock. Recognition filled them and he took a step closer to her. "It can't be…Alana? You're still alive?"

"Is that too hard for you to believe, Kottir?" Alana asked rhetorically, pushing some of her hair out of her face. "You didn't really expect the woman who slew a hundred men in one night to just drop dead, did you?"

"You just dropped off the map. Even Ulfric thinks you're dead," Kottir replied defensively. His arms rippled with muscle, and he flexed out his toned body. "What are you doing here?"

"…just some unfinished business," Alana answered, being careful as to not reveal the true nature of her visit. Her name cleared or not, it wouldn't do well for the commander of the Reach guard to know about her assassination of the keep's chef. "Don't thank me for exposing a psychopath; he just happened to get in my way."

"Still. You have done this city a great service," Kottir said, oblivious to the intention of her words. The sun was making her blood boil in her veins, and she tried to prevent from crying out. But the longer she stood there getting baked, the more irritated and annoyed she'd get. She wanted to get a move on.

"I have some business to finish, Kottir," Alana said, hoping her anger didn't slip into her tone. "As pleasant as it is to have a conversation with you after all these months, I'm afraid I must be on my way now. Perhaps we'll meet again soon and we can have a drink or two." She didn't have any intentions on sharing a drink with the Nord, but if there was one thing her kinsmen loved more than heavy weapons crushing their enemies, it was alcohol. They practically bathed in it.

Kottir looked like he wanted to insist she come walk with him, but he swallowed his pride and nodded. "Very well. I look forward to that drink when we next meet, then. Please, do not let me stop you."

He stepped to the side, and Alana moved past him and out of the heavy bronze gates of Markarth.

Free from the city walls, the blonde let out a breath of relief. The cool wind blowing down from the mountain peaks above felt good on her exposed arms and face, and she took a deep breath of the fresh air. It carried a strong scent of rain, and her mood improved a little; she loved the rain, not only for how good it felt on her skin, but for the cover it provided her. It was much harder for an enemy to spot her, and the sound of it falling muffled her footsteps even more.

Thick clouds were rolling in to block out the sun, and the temperature gradually decreased. Alana felt her arm, glancing down at it to make sure it didn't transform into the red mutation. _'Nope. It's the same as it always was. Just the way I hope to keep it.'_

She descended the stone steps and headed towards the stables. Shadowmere was waiting patiently for her, snorting at the other horses as they munched away on straw. Alana approached him with a smile, hand on her hip. "You didn't have to suffer too much waiting out here, did you?"

Shadowmere huffed and scraped the ground in his eagerness to get a move on. Alana let him bury his nose into the crook of her neck, petting him. "You're just as impatient as me. No wonder we get along so well."

The horse snorted in response, and the blonde climbed into the saddle. "Come on. We're going to Nightingate Inn."

The Gourmet loved sharing his passion for cuisine with the world, and it would be that same passion that would make the Emperor serve Sithis before he even knew what happened to him.

* * *

The road to Nightingate Inn seemed to be a little shorter than usual. Whether it was because of Shadowmere's endurance or Alana no longer fighting a mental war with Mephala constantly, she didn't know. However, she was relieved when the tavern came into view. _'There it is. Not surprised the Gourmet is staying here. It's far from any major cities and doesn't draw attention to him. A perfect little hiding spot.'_

Alana stopped alongside the road, dismounting Shadowmere. The horse trotted off to the side as to not block the path, and Alana pulled her cloak up over her head. The rains that were approaching from the west of Skyrim hadn't caught up with her yet; instead, a cold and bitter wind blew through the Pale, sending the occasional flurry of powder white snow into her face.

The minor nuisance did very little to stall her; her Nord blood and vampirism gave her a remarkable resistance to the cold, and she soon found herself walking up the steps of the inn. A small lake lay to the left of the inn, with a single dock leading halfway out over the frigid dark depths. The outer edges of it were frozen solid, and the blonde spotted a perfect place for her to hide the body of the deceased chef.

Water was a perfect spot to hide a body. It would sink deep into the icy depths where it would permanently rest unless someone crazy or stupid enough dove beneath the surface and swam down to find it.

Alana hated waiting. She hated waiting outside in the cold more. With her impatience starting to make her a little twitchy, she quickly headed inside. The blonde let her cloak fall from her head, and she was greeted by the blazing hot warmth of the fireplace in the center of the inn.

"Ah, a new guest!" The innkeeper gave her a warm smile of greeting. "Sit by the fire if the cold is eating at your bones! I'll come over with a drink if you're thirsty."

"That would be nice, thank you." Alana gave him a false smile, calling upon her vampiric powers to make the man a little more open towards her. Being undead gave her incredible illusion magic, making her able to calm even the fiercest warrior with a little vampiric seduction. It wasn't often she used her magic, but when she did, it was effective.

She took a seat at one of the many benches, and the innkeeper came towards her with a bottle of mead. "Here you are, miss. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Alana screwed off the cap, taking a slow swig of the drink before replying to his question. "I was wondering, do you know anything about an Orc staying here?"

"An Orc? Ah, yes I do!" He positively beamed. "He's got one of them funny Orc names, Balablob or something like that. Talks really good. Not a savage at all. He's paid up for the next few months; I could close the place with how much he's paying. He mostly keeps to himself downstairs tasting some of the mead or going for walks. The man can do whatever he pleases, as far as I'm concerned."

' _It's him. Balagog gro-Nolob is here. Looks like Anton's information was correct.'_ Alana would've brought the Breton back to life for the sole purpose of killing him again and sending his soul to the Soul Cairn if the information he gave her turned out to be false. The whole plan to kill the Emperor would have to be reworked, too.

"Did he say why he was staying here?" she asked. It was an innocent question, one that wouldn't arouse suspicion.

"No." The Nord shook his head. "He prefers to be left alone. Well…it's not quite that. It's like he wants to talk to people, but has to stay separate for some reason. It's rather sad, really."

"I see." Alana took another sip of her drink. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to eat, would you? It's been a long journey for me today."

The innkeeper nodded. "I have some freshly cooked venison stew ready for you, if you fancy. Old Fultheim can't stand it, but I think someone with actual taste would."

He gestured to an old Nord man sitting by his lonesome in the corner, and Alana's golden eyes blazed when she saw the sword dangling from his waist. It was an Akaviri katana, used by the Blades. This man was a member of the Blades, and he was sitting in the same vicinity as her.

Memories of Delphine trying to kill her flooded her mind, and she looked away before she did something reckless. Her gaze burned a hole through the wooden table; if looks could kill, the entire inn would be nothing more than a smoking pile of ash by now. _'I hate them. Almost as much I hate the Thalmor. They claimed to serve me, and what do they do the first damned chance they get!? They betray me!'_

' _Yes….give in, girl. Let your hatred consume and fuel you,'_ part of her whispered. _'You know you want to. it would be so easy for you to kill the old man and leave his corpse for the crows to feast upon. Do it. Now.'_

' _No. I won't. The remnants of the Blades may have tried to kill me, but this man wasn't a part of that. Delphine would've tried to recruit him, otherwise.'_ Her arm pulsed and throbbed again, and she clutched it as it flashed red.

She steadied her shaking limb, taking in a breath to calm herself down. "What's his deal?"

"Him? Ah, don't worry about him." The innkeeper waved his hand dismissively, unaware of her plight. "He's my most consistent customer apart from the Orc. He's here drinking away a long lifetime of bad memories. Poor old bastard has nightmares seemingly every night. I can hear him groaning and moaning in pain."

' _The Great War,'_ Alana realized. _'If he really was a member of the Blades, then he fought against the Thalmor in the war. Talos knows how many friends and loved ones he lost. He's seen more bloodshed than perhaps even me.'_

Her initial irrational hatred ebbed away, and instead it was replaced by sympathy and sadness. She knew, probably more than anyone, what it was like to lose loved ones to the heartless bastards of the Aldmeri Dominion. The blonde stood up and crossed the room over to him, and she sat down next to the old Nord.

"Eh? What do you want?" he asked gruffly, chugging a flagon of beer. "Can't a man drown his sorrows in peace?"

Alana looked at her own drink, swirling it around and hearing its contents splash within. "I know what you are."

Fultheim bristled, and he went to reach for his sword when Alana shook her head. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. It's not my concern who you fought for in the past." _'You tried to defend the honor of Talos, even though you knew you'd lose. I can respect that more than anything.'_

The old Nord scoffed, lowering his hand from the handle of his blade. "So, you know who I am and what I was a part of. Then you should also know how much I've lost."

"I do." Alana nodded, her gaze still fixed on her own bottle. "Coping with the losses we've suffered at their hands is something we all have to learn to do. Some of us take to drink. Others, to swinging our sword in the hopes that it will never happen again."

"Who are you?" Fultheim whispered, curiosity flooding his sad old eyes. "I can't recall seeing you before, yet something about you seems strangely familiar."

"I'm sorry, but I prefer it if my name were kept a secret," Alana replied quietly, glancing to make sure the innkeeper wasn't in earshot. "It…it wouldn't bode well for you if you knew. You'd only get dragged into the mess that is known as my life, and I've brought enough suffering and pain to others."

The old man looked like he would've liked to argue, but instead he nodded in understanding. "I know what it's like, having to keep yourself distant from others. You may be young, but those eyes of yours have seen war, and pain. It's all too familiar to you."

"You know, you're the second person to say that to me recently. I guess the walls I built up to hide myself are crumbling, one brick at a time." The blonde let out a soft laugh and chugged the rest of her drink, letting the empty bottle thunk against the table. "I'm worried I'm losing my touch."

"No. If you're slowly opening up, that means you have good people around you." Fultheim shook his head, cracking a smile. It was probably the first time he smiled in years. "You have those who'd care for you, regardless of what you've done. That's the one thing that's been keeping me going all these painful decades. Knowing that I still have my granddaughter never fails to brighten what is otherwise a grey and miserable existence."

The old man gave her hand a gentle kiss, standing up and cracking his stiff neck with a grunt. "Thank you, my dear. It was nice to finally be able to have a talk like that with someone who knows suffering."

"It was my pleasure." Alana watched him retire into his room for the night, and for some reason, she felt as though tonight he'd be free from his nightmares. Perhaps his mind would slowly but surely find peace.

A quick look outside the window told her it was getting late. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the blonde could see the aurora lighting up the nighttime sky with a beautiful barrage of colors.

She walked outside and headed down towards the sheltered pier, looking up at the spectacle above her. Her tattered cloak flapped behind her in the wind, and she stared at it. _'I'll find my own peace. Not just for me, but for both Astrid and Serana. I love them both, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.'_

' _Father…would you be proud of me?'_ she wondered. He was sure to be watching over her in Sovngarde, probably rejoicing in his only child finally breaking free from the shackles of a Daedric Prince and seeking atonement for her sins instead of running away from them.

She'd deal with the Gourmet tomorrow, when she wouldn't seem suspicious. For now, it was time for her to call it a night. Immortal or not, she could still feel her exhaustion creeping up on her the way a sabre cat stalks its prey, and she headed back inside to talk to the innkeeper about renting out a room for a night.

The Nord man was wiping down the bar, and he looked at her curiously. "Is there something else you need?"

"Sorry to bother you, but I need a room for the night." She pulled out ten gold coins, placing them on the table. "Being on the road can leave one worn out."

"Here you are. First room on the right." He took the gold and handed her a silver key, the paint on it chipped in places. "Give me a holler if you need anything else. Have a pleasant night."

Alana nodded and headed into the room, locking the door behind her. She removed her sword from her holster and rested it against the wooden walls to undress, the small candle on the lone desk providing a little bit of warmth.

In a few minutes, she was undressed, and she pulled the thick fur blanket down to climb into bed. It was a little lonely, being by herself without the warm comfort of Astrid or Serana's body pressing against her.

But, it was something she'd only have to deal with for a little while; after she assassinated the Gourmet she would head right back to the Sanctuary and would be back in their embraces.

Alana slid one hand under her head and closed her eyes to get some much-needed rest.

* * *

When Alana woke the next morning, she spotted the Gourmet outside by the lake. He was dressed in fine green silks, and he was standing on the pier with his back turned as if deep in thought. _'And there he is. He's not as muscular as I initially thought. I guess not all Orcs are obsessed with swinging giant hammers around daily.'_

The blonde got dressed and grabbed her sword before leaving her room. She placed the key on the bar and headed on her way out, giving Fultheim a brief smile that was returned. _'I have those that care about me. I'll never forget that.'_

Shadowmere was waiting for her, and he snorted in annoyance. He wasn't thrilled about having to spend the night away from his home, and Alana sighed. "I know. I didn't mean to spend the night. But I needed to. We don't want to be suspicious now, do we?"

The steed replied with a slightly harder nip to her shoulder than normal. Alana rolled her eyes and rubbed where he nipped her. "Oh, spare me the earful. We're heading back home after we're done. I'll get enough of a scolding from Astrid." Shadowmere snorted at that.

Alana headed down towards the pier, one hand on the handle of her sword. Balagog heard her approach, and he turned to face her. "Sorry, but I'm not really one for conversation. I'm here on…holiday."

"I know who you are, Gourmet." Alana drew her sword, the blade glinting in the pale sunlight.

"T-the Gourmet?" The Orc backed away, shaking his head. "You're going to kill me now, aren't you?"

"Sorry. Nothing against you. I quite like your dishes, actually. But I'm afraid it is an ugly necessity in my line of work." Alana raised her sword and swung it in a graceful arc. The Gourmet was cut in two, a clean cut at the waist, and Alana plucked his Writ of Passage from his silky trousers.

' _Got it. All I need to do now is hide the body.'_ She placed her sword down briefly to push the remains into the lake, and they sank down to the lakebed.

With the deed done, the blonde picked up her sword and strode over to Shadowmere. "I bet you're happy that's done with, aren't you?"

The dark brown horse reared up on his hind legs in response, and she mounted him. "Come on. Time to go home."

Everything was going exactly as planned.

* * *

Commander Maro paced around the Penitus Oculatus outpost in Dragon Bridge, his hands balled into fists by his side. He had gotten word of someone assassinating his only son and trying to frame him as a traitor to the Empire, and his fury was rising by the second.

He knew who was responsible. It was the Dark Brotherhood, and he wanted the assassin responsible to suffer. He wanted them to feel his pain.

The other members of the Oculatus in the outpost had retired to the inn to give their commander some time to himself, and right now he appreciated being alone. Here, no one would see him in his fit of rage, when it came. _'Gaius…I will avenge you. I'll destroy the Brotherhood, and make every single one of them beg for their damned lives!'_

He stopped his pacing when the door opened and in strode a man wearing the red and black armor of the Dark Brotherhood. Maro's eyes blazed in anger, and he reached for his greatsword. "You…you bastards killed my son, and now you're here to torment me again!?"

The newcomer's lips curled up in a savage smile, and Maro felt a shiver as he saw the pointed canines. This man wasn't human. He was a werewolf.

"Far from it. I know the one responsible for the murder of your son, and I'm not fond of them either. I came here to offer you a deal. I give you the bitch that did it, and you leave the Brotherhood alone."

Maro's jaw was tight, but if it meant he could avenge his son and make the Brotherhood pay, then he'd pretend to work with this murderous savage. "Very well. I'll entertain your words for a little."

"The woman you're looking for will be a blonde Nord with the golden eyes of a vampire," the assassin stated. "Huge beast of a sword on her back. She'll be pretending to be the Gourmet. Let her in, and unknown to her, you'll have replaced the real Emperor with a decoy. She'll think she assassinated the real man, and that's when you and your men ambush and kill her as she tries to make her escape through the tower. Do we have a deal?"

Maro nodded, and he shook the assassin's hand reluctantly. "We do." _'For now. I don't plan on upholding my end. Once I kill that bitch, I'll butcher every one of her miserable little friends.'_

"Good. Farewell, Commander Maro." The assassin departed, and the commander took a seat at his desk and picked up a quill, dipping it in a jar of ink.

He had an important letter to write to the Emperor, and he would see that the Dark Brotherhood was destroyed permanently.

 _ **A/N: Yep. Next up, the failed plot. Only three chapters left to go, now. It's kinda sad, now that I think about it. I really do enjoy this story, and I don't like seeing it go. But completing it will open up even more time for me.**_

 _ **Oh, and don't think you're getting a happy ending xD. This isn't one of those kinds of stories at all. See you soon!**_


	14. Betrayal

_**A/N: Well, chapter 14. I can't believe we're already nearly finished with this story; it's been so much fun writing this for nearly two years (can't believe it took me this long, yikes!). I promised to change the Dark Brotherhood plotline, and here it is. Enjoy! :D**_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Betrayal***

Alana returned to the Sanctuary, and Festus was waiting for her with Astrid. The old wizard chuckled, and tossed her a ring. "I received word that the chef in Markarth has met an unfortunate end, and that a certain Orc has gone missing. Well done. You performed your tasks to the letter."

"Did you expect anything else?" Alana asked rhetorically, catching the ring. It glowed with powerful enchantments, and she slipped it onto her finger. _'Hmm…my magic feels a little stronger now. Wonder what school of magic it affects.'_

Astrid let out a snicker and Festus rolled his eyes. "I was wrong about you. I see we all were. You've proven yourself to be a true member of this family, Alana. Now, Astrid here will tell you the details for when we take care of the Emperor tomorrow. If you excuse me, I have to stop Nazir from trying to make the Gourmet's chocolate pastries. Damn things give me the runs."

He wandered off with an irritated grumble befitting of his title as the 'cranky old man', and Alana watched him go with a small smile. He did take some getting used to, but his crankiness and dry sense of sarcasm rubbed off on her. The man was wise, for an assassin.

Astrid leaned forward and gave the blonde a slow kiss, holding her hands. "Nice armor. Where did you find it?"

"Found it after giving that bitch Mephala a taste of pain." Alana failed concealing her vengeful grin, and she kissed her mistress back. "I could do without it being sentient, but if it's something the Black Swordsman wore, I don't think it is daedric in origin." _'He wouldn't wear something daedric. Not when he made a living out of killing daedra worshippers and their foul summons.'_

Astrid rolled her eyes, giving her hand a squeeze. "You really do have a habit of running into artifacts that have minds of their own, don't you? Don't tell me that giant hunk of raw steel you call a sword also has a consciousness."

Alana laughed, rubbing the handle of her zweilhander affectionately and pulling it out of its holster, placing it on the table to admire its length. "I think I would know if this thing could talk. I watched my father forge it."

"How long did it take?" Astrid asked, looking at the huge blade. She tried lifting it, and Alana struggled not to laugh as her cheeks became redder and redder from the effort. Sweat rolled down her cheeks, and she eventually gave up. "It weighs a ton! How the hell do you even use this in battle!?"

"Practicality has never been my strong suit." Alana smirked and picked it up effortlessly, resting it on her shoulder. "I go in sword swinging and hope I kill the bastard before it can land a hit; that's how zweilhanders work. Using them relies on fluid motions. Disrupt that, and it's hard to recover."

"For someone who claims to be an assassin, you seem to know a lot about using heavy weapons."

"I wouldn't be a soldier if I couldn't swing a giant lump of metal to crush anything that got in my way." The blonde winked at her mistress. "Besides, you love it. Your insides burn with fiery passion when you see me hot and sweaty with this big hunk of steel in my grasp." _'I can't help it. I love her, and Serana. I feel as though choosing one or the other will only lead to pain. Why choose just one? You can have both.'_

' _That's exactly what Mephala would want, though. She would want you to bed both of them and you know it.'_

' _It isn't a lie though. It comes from the depths of my own heart, free of her influence.'_

Alana leaned in and briefly captured Astrid's lips, the vampire pulling away rather reluctantly. She quite enjoyed the feel of her mistress's soft lips on her own, and she sighed. "So, what's the plan to take out the Emperor? Go in sword swinging?"

"You wish." Astrid laughed and put her hands on Alana's waist, feeling along her lower back and stomach. "No, you will use a poison known as jarrin root. For the love of Sithis, don't taste it; a single bite leads to instant death."

"For a mortal, maybe. I'm undead. Hard to kill that which is already dead."

"Alana."

"I get it." Alana rolled her eyes and felt the powerful muscles of her right arm. "By Talos, I thought I was supposed to be the one without a sense of humor." _'By the gods, when was the last time my sarcasm and sense of humor felt natural and not forced? It's been a long time since I was able to feel this way without fearing a dagger sinking into my spine.'_

Astrid gave her stomach a pinch, and the blonde mistress smirked when the vampire let out a yelp of shock. "Immortal or not, you still need to be careful. I had to call on a lot of favors for this. Once the Emperor is dead, make your way to the tower, where you can escape."

"Got it. I look forward to coming home to quite the celebration," Alana said, giving her a suggestive wink and pocketing the poisonous plant. The glint in Astrid's eyes as she returned her gesture with a smirk told her that the two of them were going to be having one hell of a time in her quarters once she returned, and Alana's insides burned with hungry anticipation; it took a lot of her self control to not give into those ravenous desires of hers and pin Astrid against the wall right then and there.

However, she had a mission to accomplish, and with a reluctant growl she tore her gaze away from Astrid's gorgeous lithe frame. _'Dammit. I wish I could just ravage her right now. I'd love to hear her moan for me for once instead of the other way around.'_

' _You know damn well it won't be like that. She has you wrapped around her slender little fingers. She dominates you, not the other way around.'_

Alana let out a groan of want. She was impatient by nature, and the prospect of having to wait to make love with her mistress made her slightly irritated by Astrid's methods of teasing her relentlessly.

The blonde was already starting to retire to her quarters for the day, and Alana managed to get a good long look at Astrid as she started to strip down. The beautiful thighs now exposed to the air, the bra that supported her soft breasts...

Alana drank in the sight hungrily, and Astrid smirked at her, looking over her shoulder sultrily. "Aw, what's the matter, my dear? Do you like what you see?"

Alana scowled and folded her arms, looking away. "Hmph."

"I notice you didn't say no." Astrid strutted forward and cupped her cheek, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down her exposed neck. "You want it, don't you? You're about to burst with desire and beg for me, aren't you?" She nipped on the soft flesh.

Alana moaned in response, enjoying the feeling of her mistress's lips on her body. Her core burned with passion, begging to be touched. She needed more.

But Astrid pulled away with a smirk, waggling her finger in front of her. "Nope. Not until you get back from a successful assassination."

The blonde vampire groaned, giving her a glare. "You're such a damn tease. Curse you."

"You love me."

"After what you just did, that's up for debate."

Astrid merely chuckled. "Don't worry, my dear. I'll be sure to be waiting for you in bed with a bottle of the finest wine."

"Now that I can wait for." Alana gave her a smile, making sure to expose her fangs at her. "I'm sure I'll feel a little hungry when I get back."

"Kinky." Astrid grinned back. "See you in a day or so."

Alana left her mistress behind, and the blonde was greeted by the gentle pelting of rain. A dull roar of thunder was heard in the distance, and she strode over to Shadowmere. He was sniffing disdainfully as the rain pelted his flanks, and Alana chuckled. "Not a fan of the rain, are you?"

Shadowmere snorted in reply, his glowing red eyes gleaming with annoyance. His hooves scraped over a nightshade flower, and Alana wiped the saddle off with her hands before climbing into it. "Are you ready? This day is sure to go down in history."

Shadowmere reared up and neighed, his cry of victory punctuated by a crash of lightning.

Alana pulled her cloak over her head, and he took off away towards Solitude. She thought of how she'd face down Titus Mede II, and her anger started to boil at the thought of the Emperor. _'My father fought for us to be able to worship whoever we damn well pleased, and yet you chose the coward's way out. You surrendered our own god to keep your damned throne, at the tip of an Aldmeri sword. Skyrim will never forgive you for this, and they will rejoice once they hear you have been killed.'_

She wanted to look the Emperor in the eyes as his life slowly ebbed away, and to tell him that the cold justice of the Nords had just been brought down on his head. If the jarrin root didn't kill him then she would, with her own two hands.

The Emperor was going to die today. She'd make sure of it.

* * *

When Alana arrived in the capital of Skyrim, she felt a little uneasy about the quietness of it. Solitude should've been livelier, with the Emperor visiting Skyrim. Something of this magnitude ought to have made the townspeople murmur in excited hushed whispers to each other, and yet no one was acting as if anything was out of the ordinary.

The uneasiness bubbled in her gut, and her eyes glanced around. She couldn't help but feel like she was walking right into an ambush of some kind, and she didn't like it. _'This…this doesn't feel right. It feels as though the predators have just become the prey. But how? No one knows about the Brotherhood's plan.'_

She walked up to Castle Dour, passing by Beirand's forge. The old Nord was hard at work, hammering away on a beautiful set of ebony armor. He didn't even look up from his task as she walked by, his concentration focused purely on his newest masterpiece.

That was fine by her. The less attention she attracted, the better. The assassination would go a lot smoother the more discreet it was. She just wished she was capable of such patience and stealth.

Alana passed by the garrison, and she noticed two members of the Penitus Oculatus outside Castle Dour. _'Two guards. Nothing I can't handle, should a problem arise.'_

The two men didn't pay her any attention, though, and she made her way over to the Emperor's Tower, where standing guard was a tall Imperial man with a large greatsword on his back. It was Commander Maro, the leader of the Oculatus. He held out his hand to stop her, his dark eyes firm. "Stop. The tower is off limits to civilians. Only authorized people may enter."

Alana reached into her pocket and fished out the Writ of Passage she stole from the Gourmet, handing it to him.

Maro looked at it, and his eyes widened in shock. "By Azura…the Gourmet? Please, don't let me stop you. The castle chef, Gianna, is inside waiting for you eagerly."

He stepped aside with a friendly smile, and Alana entered the kitchens where an Imperial woman was feverishly stirring a pot of broth. The delicious smell of the Gourmet's signature dish, the Potage le Magnifique, and her stomach growled in want. If her objective didn't rely on her poisoning the stew, she would've grabbed a bite or two; the trek to Solitude had been long, and she was quite hungry. _'Damn. I should've stopped by the inn for a quick meal.'_

Gianna looked up from her task, and she groaned in annoyance as the blonde vampire approached. "Not another delivery. For the last time, I have all the ingredients I need."

"You are sadly mistaken," Alana replied, grabbing a chef's hat and twirling it around her finger. "For I am the Gourmet."

"T-the Gourmet?" Gianna's eyes were wide in excitement, and she clasped her hands together. "Oh my! Please, forgive my rudeness! It's an honor to cook with the most famous chef in Tamriel! It's just…you're a Nord? Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"You'd be surprised." Alana let the lie roll off her tongue easily. "Now, let's make a meal the Emperor won't forget."

"Indeed!" Gianna beamed and resumed stirring. "Now, the Emperor has requested your signature dish, the Potage le Magnifique. The base broth is already finished, but the cookbook only says so much. I was wondering if we can do it the Gourmet's signature way? What's the first ingredient we add?"

"Carrots," the blonde replied. She had read the book on the way to Solitude, making sure to memorize the recipe. Hidden in the signed copy of it was the Gourmet's secret way of making the potage, and she would only make one alteration to it with the addition of the jarrin root.

"Really? Huh. Makes sense. What next?"

"A splash of mead, followed by one nirnroot." Alana gently splashed a bit of Nord mead into the pot and dropped the chopped nirnroot into the stew, the plant quickly saturated by the thick broth.

"Mmm…this smells so delicious," Gianna murmured happily. "I'd love to taste this. The Emperor is very lucky. Anything else?"

"Diced horker meat."

"Mmm. Horker. I don't think there's a soul alive who doesn't love the rich succulent flavor of horker." Gianna's mouth was watering as she stirred in the fresh meat, and she tapped the spoon against the pot. "Well, the stew seems about done. If we add anything else, we might dilute the flavors."

"There's one last thing. This." Alana pulled out the jarrin root, chopping it up with a large knife and dropping it into the stew. "This is my secret ingredient."

"A-are you sure?"

"Now, now. Who's the Gourmet?"

A faint blush appeared on Gianna's cheeks at the gentle rebuke, and she nodded. "V-very well." The Imperial woman lifted the hot pot up and began to walk out of the kitchens, and Alana discarded the chef's hat. There was no further need of it, with the Emperor's death nothing less than a certainty.

She followed Gianna up the steps, and she could hear the Emperor talking with several nobles from Cyrodiil inside the room. He was dismissing Vittoria Vici's death as nothing more than an 'unfortunate event caused by cold mead and hot tempers'. Alana's lip curled; his own kin, and the bastard had no sympathy or respect for her demise. Anyone who honored their family would have properly grieved. No wonder he surrendered Talos. He didn't even care for his own blood.

The damned Thieves Guild had more honor than him, and they stole and cheated for a living. At least they would defend their brothers and sisters in crime.

"Gods, I'm so nervous," Gianna whispered. Alana could hear the excitement in her tone that said she was anything but nervous; she probably waited her entire lifetime for this opportunity. "Please, I'll serve. You just stand there and be amazing."

Alana sighed. She could do without the pointless flattery, especially when one considered the chaos that was about to erupt.

She entered the Emperor's dining hall, and the man smiled at her as she walked in. His long grey hair was in a ponytail and he wore nothing but the finest silks that his position offered. He was seated at one end of a very long dining table, with two of his elite guards standing on either side of him. However, their hands where nowhere near their weapons; they had no idea that an assassination was about to unfold.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Gourmet!" The Emperor gestured to the blonde, and the other three nobles seated at the table gave her respectful nods.

The Emperor looked over at the steaming pot, and he grinned. "Ah, the Potage le Magnifique. Guests, as Emperor, I of course hold the right of first taste."

The other nobles laughed, and Alana waited as Gianna scooped out a bowl for the Emperor. _'That's right. Laugh while you can, Mede. You'll be serving Sithis in the Void before you know it. Best if you enjoy the last painful moments of your wretched life.'_

Titus Mede II raised a spoonful to his lips and had a taste of the poisoned potage. He ate it hungrily, his eyes bright. "Oh, how marvelous! It is everything I ever dreamed!"

His expression changed from delight to panic in an instant as the poison took effect. "S-something's wrong! I…ah!" The Emperor tried to sit up from his chair, clutching his throat. Spittle dribbled from his lips, and he fell facefirst into the bowl.

Titus Mede II was dead.

The guards were horrified by what had just happened, and they reached for their swords. "The Gourmet and her assistant murdered the Emperor! Kill them!"

"Time to go." Alana looked over shoulder at the exit and slammed her shoulder against the door. It burst open, and the blonde tried not to wince as she heard Gianna's panicked scream cut off abruptly. _'Sorry. Didn't want to involve anyone. But it's an ugly necessity.'_

She ran across the bridge, only to stop as she heard clapping from the tower. Three agents of the Oculatus came out, and standing above them on the second story was Commander Maro. The Imperial wore a satisfied smirk, and he stopped clapping. "That man was, by far, the most insufferable decoy the Emperor has ever employed. I'm glad he's dead. But, I'm even happier it was _you_ who killed him."

"What!?" Alana started to reach for her sword, and it slowly sank in. "No…no!" _'Dammit! Someone betrayed us!? But who!? Who would dare to betray the Dark Brotherhood!?'_

"Surprised?" Maro asked mockingly. "So was I, when a member of your so-called 'family' came to me with the deal. I get you, and the Dark Brotherhood gets to keep existing. But you know what? I've changed my mind. How about I kill every one of your miserable little friends!? That's what I think of this deal! Your Sanctuary is being put to the sword right now! You killed my son, you bitch! And now, you get to die knowing your own loves ones are being butchered!"

He turned away from her with one last order. "Kill her! And make sure there's nothing left to bury!"

The men ran at her, swords glinting, and Alana let her anger carry her. With one furious swing, she cleaved the first one in half at the waist. Blood showered her body, and with her golden eyes blazing, she avoided a predictable attack from the right. _'I have to get out of here! But first, I'll rip them to pieces!'_

Her arm flashed red, and she ignored the horrified gasps as her sword came down through the second agent. The Imperial man fell to the ground, howling in agony as blood spurted from his severed arm. He clutched the stump, attempting to stop the gushing red tide, and the blonde savagely slammed her boot on his skull. He died instantly from the tough bone shattering and puncturing the soft tissue of his brain.

She hissed in pain as an arrow lodged in the exposed flesh of her upper arm, and she faced the archer with a snarl. Alana ripped the arrow out of her body, blood trickling from the wound, and flames flickered at the corners of her lips before the Shout was released. **"Yol Toor Shul!"**

The archer screamed as his flesh was burned by the furious flames, and the smell of cooked meat was overpowering. The flames consumed the skin hungrily, devouring it as Alana made her way closer. Hate brewed in her furious eyes, and she looked down at his body in contempt. He sobbed as his body slowly charred and crumbled away, and his burnt fingers tried to reach out to his fallen bow.

Alana crunched on them with her heeled boots, the bones snapping. He screamed again, and the blonde twisted her foot to make him experience more pain. He was pinned down, unable to move, and he eventually succumbed to the fires of her Shout.

Alana clutched her wrist as pure agony shot through her arm, and she nearly fell to one knee as it threatened to transform. _'No…no! Resist the evil inside! Don't succumb!'_

The pain soon ebbed away, and the blonde could hear the commotion in the city as she started to descend down the tower and out of the secret entrance. She needed to get to the Sanctuary, and fast.

She swore that when she found the traitor, she was going to make them suffer. They would know true terror by the time she was done with them.

* * *

Alana leapt off of Shadowmere's back when they neared the Sanctuary, and she landed gracefully. Her sword immediately met the cold steel of an Imperial sword, and Alana spat angrily before she cut her enemy down.

Seven hours. The Oculatus had been chasing her for seven hours, and she was covered in the blood of her enemies. Part of her hair was stained crimson, and there was a cut on her cheek, but she was mostly unharmed.

She ran down the path to the Sanctuary, decapitating another Oculatus agent. She stopped when she saw a familiar face impaled by dozens of arrows to a tree, and her eyes watered when she recognized the person. "I was too late…"

It was Festus. The old wizard had appeared to have been killed fighting, judging by the burned bodies around him. That didn't make it any easier on her, and she paid her respects to him. "Rest well. May you never know pain again."

She entered the Sanctuary, and was shocked to find it set ablaze. _'The bastards are trying to burn us alive!'_ Two more Oculatus agents were waiting for her, standing over the corpse of Veezara. The Argonian had also died with a sword in hand, and the two soldiers drew their swords. "Get her!"

Alana met them with the fury of a sabre cat. Her heavy blade shattered the sword of the first, and the momentum carried the zweilhander through his body. The armor the Penitus Oculatus wore was lightweight; it was no match for the sheer size and weight of Requiem. The blade cut him in two at the waist, and the second one leapt with a yell of anger.

Alana gave him a cruel smirk and ducked under the clumsy attack. He stumbled, and he soon found himself impaled on the blonde's sword. "Pitiful."

Alana removed her zweilhander from his chest, letting the body fall on the floor, and she knelt down to close Veezara's eyes. "Farewell, my brother." _'Damn them! They killed Veezara and Festus!'_

The Sanctuary shook, and she stumbled before she continued on looking for more survivors. _'Please, don't let Astrid be dead. Please…'_

She found Gabriella wounded and on the ground. The Dunmer was alive, but only barely, and Babette was trying to tend to her wounds while Nazir fought off a particularly skilled member of the Oculatus. The Redguard was on the defensive, his sword parrying heavy blows. "If I die today, then so be it. But you'll remember this fight!"

Alana leapt in to aid him, sinking her blade through his back. The Imperial man fell in a bloody heap, and Nazir coughed from the thick smoke flooding the Sanctuary. "You're alive! Thank Sithis!"

"We were set up!" Alana hissed, shielding her eyes. "Where's Serana!? Where's Astrid!?"

"I don't know!" Nazir replied, coughing. "Serana was outside with Festus when we were attacked! I ordered them to get to Dawnstar and start establishing a new base of operations there. As for Astrid, last I checked she was in her quarters!"

The vampire's heart thumped with worry. She had to make sure her mistress was alive. "Think you can get Gabriella and Babette out of here? I'm going after Astrid."

"Count on it, Listener," Nazir said in determination. "Now go!"

Alana ran back, leaping through the flames, and she found could hear the sounds of fighting coming from within Astrid's quarters. The door was barred shut, and Alana steeled herself before cutting through the tough wood with Requiem.

Splinters of wood went everywhere, and what Alana saw made her blood become alive. A Penitus Oculatus agent stood over a bleeding Astrid, her mistress clutching her bloodied side. Her dagger lay on the ground out of reach, and the agent went to deliver the killing blow when his sword clashed with the heavy steel of Alana's zweilhander. "Don't you dare!"

Astrid looked up, relief flooding her eyes as she saw the vampire protecting her. "You have impeccable timing."

Alana pushed the man back with a snarl, ignoring her lover for the time being. "You won't lay a damned hand on her!"

"You seem very eager to die, whore," the Imperial sneered. "Pity. I'm sure our commander would love to have his way with you if he got the chance."

The blonde seethed, and her grip on her heavy sword tightened. "I'll never be the slave of a filthy coward!" With a furious roar she began to swing her sword, pushing the man immediately to the defensive. Each swing forced him back further and further, and he soon found himself pinned against the wall.

Alana felt herself beginning to drown in anger. She shattered the agent's sword and shield with ease, splinters of wood and metal landing on the ground. Her hand found his throat, and she began to squeeze. "Scream…I want to hear you beg!"

Her thoughts were clouded; all she could think about was the sound of blood pumping in her ears and the feeble attempts the agent made to free himself from the demonic goddess who had him in her cold grip of death. His nails raked down her skin as his lips turned purple, saliva dribbling down his chin.

Her grip only tightened around his throat, and she didn't let him go until he suffocated.

Alana spat on the body, hate ebbing from her like a river. "Pathetic."

Her rage started to subside as she felt hands on her body, and she looked over her shoulder to see Astrid standing behind her. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like I should be the one asking that," Astrid replied, wincing. Blood covered her hand, and she grimaced. "It's deep, but I'll live. Who's still alive?"

"Nazir, Gabriella, and Babette," Alana answered. "Veezara and Festus didn't make it."

"Damn the Penitus Oculatus." Astrid let out a furious growl and leaned onto the vampire for support as they started to flee the burning Sanctuary. "What about Arnbjorn?"

Alana stopped outside. She hadn't seen the damned werewolf inside, dead or alive. "I…don't know. I thought he was inside the Sanctuary with the rest of you?"

"He went outside five minutes prior to the attack," Astrid said, confused. "What the hell is going on?"

"Well…you weren't supposed to make it back alive," a familiar voice sneered. A dark shape dropped from the trees, and Alana's eyes blazed.

It was Arnbjorn, and he was already in his werewolf form. His yellow eyes gleamed with hatred and malice, and Alana hissed in fury. "It was you, wasn't it? You betrayed us!" _'The bastard! I should've expected something like this would happen! I knew it. I knew it, and still I let my damned guard down!'_

"That's right. I wanted you to die," Arnbjorn snarled. "Everything was going just fine until you came along. My own wife turned into a vampire's plaything. She chose _you_ , a filthy creature that hides in the day and spreads her legs for anyone who comes along. Well, no more. You die, here and now!"

He leapt at her, and Alana hesitated. She had to get both herself and Astrid out of the way of the attack; she needed to get her weapon ready, and she couldn't do that with Astrid hanging onto her like a limp doll. _'Dammit. I guess I have no other choice.'_

She opened her mouth and Shouted. **"Tiid Klo Ul!"**

Time slowed down to a crawl, and Alana was able to move Astrid out of the way and into a safe location while Arnbjorn slowly moved through the air. Alana placed her mistress by the shadowy pools, and she got her sword out as soon as the Shout wore off.

The heavy blade met Arnbjorn's claws, and the werewolf's jaws snapped at her neck. Alana grinned savagely and kicked him in the groin. He fell with a loud howl, and the blonde went to slam her sword through his skull when he lashed out at her with his claws. They cut across her thigh, and the blonde hissed in pain as blood welled up from the wounds. _'Damn. Got careless.'_

The werewolf was back on his feet, and he roared at her before leaping again. His arms were outstretched, the claws glinting, and Alana saw her opening. _'There!'_

She slid underneath him and cut him from the throat down to the base of his tail in one clean slice.

Arnbjorn let out a gurgled scream that was cut short. Blood poured from the wound, and he crashed onto the ground. His body shuddered and convulsed, the claws tearing the grass from the dirt as he bled out. Not even his lycanthropy was enough to heal the terrible wound, and Alana rested her sword on her shoulder, wiping a trickle of blood from her cheek. "Have fun being Hircine's pet."

Astrid hobbled over to her, and the vampire caught her. "Don't worry. I got you. Nazir's scouting ahead; if we're lucky, we'll reach them by dawn."

"Thank Sithis…" Astrid murmured, falling asleep. Alana slid her sword into its holster and hoisted Astrid onto her back, carrying her mistress.

It was going to be one long walk to Dawnstar, and Alana was infuriated. Not only was the Brotherhood betrayed by one of their own, but the bastards let her believe it was the real Emperor when he was nothing but a damned decoy.

"Maro…you will pay for this."

She would avenge those who had fallen.

 _ **A/N: Two more left! :D Hope this one went over well. Prepare for more blood and pain in the next chapter XD. It'll be quite gruesome. How bloody? Well, Alana DOES have the Berserker armor from Berserk…so it'll be pretty graphic. Warning you ahead of time XD.**_

 _ **C. Strife #5371**_


	15. Demons

_**A/N: Well, here we are. The second to last chapter before our grand finale! :D Warning for this one includes a shit ton of blood and gore. No, really. Like, a LOT. XD I just love this stuff…**_

 _ ***cue Light Yagami's infamous 'Kira laugh' from Death Note***_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Demons***

Alana paused for breath, panting. Astrid was still out cold against her back, and a rainstorm from the Reach was closing in on them. So far, only a few drops had fallen from the grey and cloudy skies above, and the blonde shifted her mistress's body to relieve a bit of pressure on her back. Immortal vampire or not, fighting for seven consecutive hours had taken a toll on her, and her strength was beginning to ebb away into nothingness.

Nazir and the others were miles ahead of her by now; her own wounds had reopened, and she could feel the slashes she suffered from Arnbjorn throb as blood trickled down her thigh. The blonde grimaced and leaned against the hard tough bark of an oak tree. She could feel the rough edges scraping against the exposed flesh on her arms, blood welling up from the cuts.

' _Dammit. I can feel myself growing weaker with each passing minute. I hate this.'_ Alana let out a low hiss of irritation at her weakness. The wounds Astrid had suffered during the raid on the Sanctuary had finally started to close up and heal, but her mistress had yet to wake up, and they had been on the move for several hours now.

They were nearing the border with Whiterun Hold, on the far edge of Falkreath near Riverwood. The village was still a good mile or two away, and the blonde vampire took a deep breath and forced her aching limbs to move once more. _'We can find a place to stay at the inn. We'll need it; I can't carry Astrid like this for much longer.'_

She just hoped her endurance would keep until they reached the safety of the village.

Alana pushed through the thick brush, grimacing as the thorns of a thistle bush scratched her arms. More of her blood was spilled, falling in little red drops on the ground as she progressed through the forest. _'Hold it together, Alana. You can make it. Just hold on for a little while longer.'_

Astrid lifted her head from its resting place on her back, and her voice was thick with exhaustion. "Alana…? Where are we?"

"Nearly at the border to Whiterun," Alana replied through gritted teeth, trying to not let her own weariness show. It was no easy task, though; she was sure some pain slipped into her tone. "Go back to sleep; you need to rest and let your wounds heal after the attack." _'My own will heal faster than hers. One additional perk to being undead.'_

Astrid stirred, and she saw the vampire was struggling to keep going. "Alana, let me down. I can walk on my own. Pushing yourself in your state won't do you any good."

"I'm fine," Alana returned stubbornly, pushing herself to carry her mistress. "My wounds will heal quicker than yours." _'But not in my current state. I'm pushing my body too far; we've been on the move for hours and I haven't rested since I initially left for Solitude.'_

It was now the small hours of the morning, and the dark cloudy skies blocked out the moonlight that she was using to guide her. With the brilliant orbs in the sky covered, Alana was forcibly using her Vampire's Sight power repeatedly, draining more and more of her stamina and overall power. It wouldn't be much longer before she passed out from the strain.

"Alana…please. Do it," Astrid murmured quietly. She squirmed, trying to free herself from her position. "You'll only collapse at this rate."

The blonde vampire stopped, and with a reluctant sigh she let Astrid down. Her mistress landed nimbly on her feet, and Alana stumbled. It was her turn to lean on her for support, and Astrid placed her arm around her neck before hefting her back up with a wince. "By the gods, woman. What have you been doing to yourself for the past couple of hours?"

Alana gave a bitter smile, focusing her healing on her legs. "Been using Vampire's Sight to guide us through this damned forest. I'm only supposed to use it once a day; I must have used it at least four times already."

"Have you gone completely mad? You're lucky you didn't pass out," Astrid scolded, cuffing her on the head. "You damned fool."

"If I was lucky, I wouldn't have needed to use it at all," Alana countered, wincing. "It was an ugly necessity. You don't want to be ambushed by an angry bear or giant spider, do you?"

"Considering you're the one escorting me, I don't feel that afraid." The blonde shrugged, and their boots finally hit the stone of a proper road for the first time in hours.

"…you should. You know I'm dangerous to be around," Alana said quietly. "You know what I'm capable of, and what you saw back at the Sanctuary was only a fraction of my power. You haven't seen the side of me I don't want you to see." _'It's there. I know it is. The side of me that begs to come loose.'_

' _The demon inside me is always there, always watching. It's waiting for the right opportunity to strike. No matter how much I try to resist it, it somehow finds a way to rear its head like a dragon.'_ Her arm trembled again, and she squeezed her eyes shut at another flash of red. _'Must not submit…'_

"We all have inner demons, Astrid," she continued. "And mine are much stronger than most. They're always there, waiting to come loose." She felt Astrid's hands on her back, and she leaned her head into the crook of her neck. "Sorry. I'm not trying to—"

"I know. Alana, trust me; I _know_ ," Astrid murmured. She planted a gentle kiss on her head, pushing some of the bloodstained locks of hair to the side. "Even though I have yet to really see them, I won't leave you to fight it alone."

"Astrid…thank you." Alana smiled and stood a little straighter, finding the strength to do so.

"No problem, beautiful." Astrid helped her walked along the road until finally Riverwood loomed into view.

Alana remembered the first time she came through the village, so long ago. It had been the day she saw a live dragon and sent her on her destiny of being the Dragonborn.

She recalled the memory of walking through the woods with Ralof quite fondly. The two Nords had made a lot of small talk during their escape, and Alana learned from him all about the Stormcloak rebellion. Sure, there were a lot of rumors surrounding Ulfric Stormcloak about him being a power-hungry lunatic, but at the end of the day, she'd rather have him on the throne of her homeland than Elisef; it was better to die a free man or woman than a slave of the Thalmor.

Ralof had been her first friend in Skyrim. She never forgot his loyalty and admiration for her; the handsome blond Nord was one of the few people to not turn his back on her, and even helped her at her lowest point.

Alana's knees buckled as they approached the village gates, and Astrid winced under the strain. "Come on. Get your little rear moving; carrying a blonde beauty with a heap of steel too big to be called a sword strapped to her back is not easy."

"Astrid, I'm caked in blood and sweat from fighting for over seven hours straight," Alana said with a wheeze, biting her tongue and forcing her aching limbs to move. "I'm not sure what exactly is beautiful about me right now. I honestly cannot believe that damn Imperial who tried to kill you said I would be a good toy for Maro." _'Gods, what I wouldn't do right now for a bowl of soup and a hot bath. And seriously, I'm beginning to think that Dibella was a little too generous when she blessed me.'_

"Is that your blood or someone else's?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I stopped keeping track just after our plan went to hell. Had other, much more important things on my mind to worry about."

"Like what?"

"Like making sure I didn't lose the family that has not only grown on me, but helped me start to heal the scars that dig deep into me." Alana grimaced when she thought of the words that came out of her mouth. "Ugh. I cannot believe I just said that. Please disregard those words entirely." _'She's definitely going to use that against me. I just know it.'_

"I don't think so." Astrid grinned, driving her elbow into her gut gently. "I'm keeping that over your head for a long time now."

"You're the worst."

"You love it."

"I object to that claim," Alana shot back, giving her a bloodstained smirk before wincing. "Damn this hurts." _'I always push myself too hard. I really do let my anger carry me in battle, don't I? I know I was never one to be rational in a fight, but I often find myself starting to drown in hatred and anger, choking and sputtering until I succumb to them completely.'_

' _And the demon inside me relishes in it.'_ She looked at her shaking arm, her golden gaze sullen. She was beginning to think it was hopeless to fight back against it. It was like a plague, unable to be cured no matter what. It transformed again as if feasting on her negativity, and it went to cover her face before it vanished.

She was thankful when they were within the safety of the village, and Astrid helped her up the steps of the inn. The thin wood creaked under their weight, and for a moment Alana wondered if they would fall through. Adding an additional sixty pounds to her did not do her any favors.

She had a feeling if they did, Astrid would laugh for everyone to see their predicament.

The Riverwood Inn was quiet inside. Most of the usual patrons had long since retired to their homes for the night, and the only people apart from them inside were the innkeeper and a familiar face.

Ralof was wearing his Stormcloak gear, and a heavy iron warhammer was strapped to his back. He was currently downing a pint of mead, and the handsome Nord looked up from his drink when he saw the two enter. His blue eyes widened when he saw the blonde warrior who had once fought by his side, and he stood up from the table.

"It can't be…I heard you were dead," Ralof whispered. He looked at her, and broke into a smile. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you alive, old friend."

Alana stood a little straighter, earning an exasperated look from her mistress. "Likewise, Ralof. And you should know from when we escaped Helgen that it'll take a lot to put me down for good."

"Well, with all due respect, you look like you're on the verge of collapsing," Ralof remarked with a chuckle. "Nice sword, by the way. Do you need a place to rest? You could always stay in my home rather than paying for a room here."

Alana shared a glance with Astrid, and her mistress gave her a subtle shake of the head.

"Sorry," Alana apologized with a sad smile. "But we can't. Have to meet up with some friends of ours."

Ralof looked like he wanted to insist, but he didn't make a move to stop her. He merely raised his mug and nodded. "Very well. If you need someone to stand guard for you—"

"Not necessary," Astrid interrupted abruptly. " _I'll_ handle it."

Was that…jealousy Alana heard creep into his mistress's tone? The vampire was almost tempted to laugh at the thought of her mistress being envious of anyone, let alone a man who was just a friend and nothing else.

Alana shot Astrid a look of disapproval after they paid for a room and hobbled into it. Astrid eased her onto the bed, and the blonde vampire sighed. "You didn't have to do that, you know. He's only a friend."

"Really? I see the way he looks at you."

"Astrid, Ralof and I fought alongside each other. He was the first friend I had in Skyrim, for Talos' sake." Alana rolled her eyes and started undoing the clips on her armor, her hands fumbling from being slick with her blood. "I'm not interested in him like that, even if he is."

Her she removed the front of her armor first, and she looked away when Astrid started to notice the ugly scars that laced over a lot of her upper body. "Sorry…not every day you see battle scars like these, huh?"

Astrid walked over and touched one, a set of five claw marks that stretched across the side of her stomach. "What are these ones?"

"A bear attack. I was somewhere in the Reach on Stormcloak business, and a cave bear ambushed me. I was lucky enough to fight it off before it got me again," Alana answered.

"This one?" Astrid's hand lingered over a large puncture just below the ribcage.

"Frostbite spider, in Bleak Falls Barrow. Forgot how big the ugly bastards were." Alana banished the memory of the freakishly large arachnid to the back of her mind. Even dragons were nowhere near as terrifying as a spider the size of a damned carriage.

Astrid looked at a series of other scars, including one that went right across her toned stomach. "These I assume are from the war?"

"Yes." Alana nodded. "Most of them are from the battle for Fort Sungard. My unit was assigned to the frontal assault. We were getting annihilated, and I…I lost myself. I just remember seeing my second in command die from an Imperial archer, and everything went redder than blood. When I came to, I was lying on a cot and covered in bandages."

"You slipped into a berserker rage?"

"Yes. I was so incensed that I became unstoppable." The blond vampire sighed and felt her shoulder, wincing at the soreness. "It was the first time I had ever gone into that. It was so raw, so animalistic. When I was told we had won the battle, I was actually terrified of myself. I never knew I could become a hateful monster." _'How many? How many did I kill that day? How much blood stained my hands?'_

"Now do you see why I tried to distance myself from you at first?" she asked rhetorically. "I'm scared of my own power. The things I've done, the things I have the capacity to do…"

"Why are you afraid?" Astrid's voice was barely above a whisper. "You haven't harmed me yet. I'm not saying I wasn't worried about losing my damn head when you accidentally transformed, but you haven't laid a hand on me thus far. And I've been meaning to reprimand you for that, by the way."

She cuffed Alana hard on the side of the head, making the vampire rub where she was struck. "What was that for?"

"For starving yourself for as long as you did, you damned fool." Astrid scowled. "You should've known better than to do a stupid stunt like that. Now let me dig around for a potion for you; you've pushed yourself too hard once again."

"Astrid, I'm fine. My body is used to this kind of abuse," Alana pointed out. "And to answer your previous question, I'm afraid because you haven't seen me at my worst, and what you'll do if you eventually do get to see it. I've lost too much; my friends, my family, my home…everything was taken from me. I'm tired of losing things I care about to the daedra." _'Is this what makes me refrain from turning completely into a demonic monster bent on killing everything in my path? That desire to protect?'_

The Dragonborn felt a twinge of pain shoot up her sore shoulder, and she rubbed it with a wince. _'Ow. Okay, Astrid's got a point. I do push myself too hard trying to do too much by myself. But I just don't want to see them get hurt because of me. I've brought enough pain and suffering to those I care about. They shouldn't have to bear the burdens of my sins.'_

"Do you need to feed?" Astrid asked. "I imagine it's been awhile for you."

"It's been a few days," she admitted. "I'm not blood-starved—" She broke off when Astrid started to pull off the top of her leather armor, and she felt a rush of heat through her cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"If you need to, then I don't mind." Astrid pushed some of her hair aside from her neck to expose the delicate flesh, beckoning to her. The sweet aroma was overpowering, and Alana hesitated. _'Dammit. It smells so delicious. I'd love a proper taste.'_

"Astrid, are you sure? There's a very good chance I could possibly turn you," she warned. "This kind of thing, it's…well, it's intimate for vampires."

"If that's the case, then I'm glad it's you and not some random filthy creature in the woods."

"Not sure how to take that, considering I was hiding in a damned cave myself only a little while ago."

"Something tells me you were dirty, but in a much different way." Her mistress smirked at her coyly. "From what Serana tells me, you are quite the naughty little minx. How often did you end up underneath her?"

"Shut up, Astrid." Alana let out an annoyed hiss and blushed. Her fangs hovered mere inches above the vein that pumped the blood she so desperately craved, and she looked up at her mistress and lover before sinking them in.

Astrid let out a gasp of pain at first, her hands running through her tangled golden locks and gripping them tightly. The first few spurts of blood hit the vampire's tongue, and Alana eased her grasp as the sweet crimson tide flowed into her mouth. "Just relax..."

She drank hungrily, and each passing second she could feel her vampire powers focusing on healing her battered body. The aching in her limbs started to fade away, and after a few minutes she pulled away.

"Did you have to stop?" Astrid complained, wiping the beads of sweat from her face. Her cheeks were red as she huffed, trying to regain her breath after being bitten by such a powerful vampire.

"Sorry. But any longer, and I would've turned you." Alana licked a drop off her lips, savoring the sweet taste. Exhaustion started to eat away at her limbs, and she flopped down in the bed with a groan. "Gods, I'm so tired."

"Same. Now move over and make some room."

"Make me…" Alana's eyes started to close, and she tried not to laugh at Astrid's feeble attempts to move her.

"You are not taking that bed all for yourself. Dammit Alana, move over! Don't start snoring on me!"

* * *

Very early the next morning, Alana and Astrid were on the move again, and after several long hours they caught up with Nazir in the Pale. The Redguard was seated in front of a slowly dying fire, and he looked up when he saw the two blondes approach. "Nice to see you two again. I was beginning to think you two had died at the Sanctuary."

"It'll take more than a few Imperials to kill me." Alana flexed her arm, taking a seat across from him. "Did you hear anything from Serana?"

"No." He shook his head and glanced over at the prone form dressed in red and black robes being tended to by Babette. "We haven't been on the move for very long, I'm afraid. Gabriella's injuries are severe, and our progress has been bad. The damn weather's starting to close in, and I can't help but feel as though we are being watched by someone or something."

"Please don't tell me you've started drinking skooma again," Astrid muttered. "I thought I was supposed to be the paranoid one after a betrayal, not you." Alana scoffed at that.

"Who was it?" Nazir asked.

"Arnbjorn." Alana spat out his last name with as much venom as she could muster in the single word. "The bastard wanted me dead for taking Astrid away from him. Don't worry; I made sure he paid dearly for his betrayal."

"Damn." Nazir pursed his lips and looked over at Babette. "How's it coming? Will she make it?"

The immortal ten year old sighed and shook her head. "I don't know. I really don't know. There's a lot of internal bleeding; my potions can only heal so much damage. She's lucky to have survived this long."

"Babette, may I speak with her?" Astrid asked quietly. "Alone, please."

Babette nodded and stood up to run over to Alana and hug her tight. "It's good to know you survived."

Alana winced at the pain shooting through her core, and she tapped Babette's arm gently. "Hey, take it easy. I'm still a little sore."

"Sorry. Does it hurt badly?"

"Not really. I've fought much worse." Alana's stomach growled hungrily at the smell of food wafting from the pot Nazir had started stirring, and she peered over to look at the pot's contents. "What are you planning on making? Something fit for a queen, I hope?"

"You wish." Nazir snorted in laughter and tapped a long wooden spoon against the lid of the pot. "No, I'm making my very special venison and cabbage stew. I made a brief stop in Whiterun and made a few purchases earlier today."

"How soon will it be done?" Alana asked. "We didn't get anything to eat before we left the Riverwood Inn early in the morning." _'That was a dumb decision on my part. We should've eaten something; choosing not to only weakened us as our journey here. We're lucky we caught up with Nazir.'_

"Babette! Alana!" Astrid's sad voice got their attention, and the three ran over to see what was wrong.

Gabriella's breaths were growing shallower, and the Dunmer's red eyes were starting to dim. Babette clasped a hand over her mouth, and Nazir bowed his head respectfully. Gabriella wasn't going to make it after all.

Alana knelt down next to her dying family member, and she couldn't help but feel guilty as she took one of Gabriella's hands in hers. _'I was too late. If I had gotten back sooner, perhaps we could've saved her.'_

"I…I'm sorry. I should've gotten back from Solitude quicker." Alana's eyes were on the ground, unable to meet Gabriella's.

"D-don't be…it isn't your fault," she rasped. "It was all Arnbjorn's doing, and you made sure he paid for it. I can rest easy knowing the one responsible for this is dead."

"But…if I had—"

"You mustn't blame yourself." Gabriella squeezed her hand, giving her a pained smile. "It's been an honor. Farewell…"

Her body jerked once more, and then she was still. Her soul left her body to be reborn in the Void, and Alana let Gabriella's hand fall from her grasp. Her head was bowed in mourning, and she turned to Babette and Nazir. "You two, go and get some firewood. She deserves a proper funeral." _'Dammit. It's happening again. Just like before.'_

Her hand pulsed and throbbed painfully, and the blonde abruptly turned away from Gabriella's body. _'It wasn't supposed to be like this! I thought it would end! Am I doomed to bring death to my family no matter what!?'_

Tears stung the corners of her eyes, and her whole arm began to shake as her grief grew. "It's just like before…no matter where I go, I bring death and pain. I really am nothing more than a damned curse, aren't I?" _'I thought this time would be different. But I was wrong. When will it end? Haven't I suffered enough?'_

"No, you aren't." Astrid hugged her from behind, her arms around her stomach. "The happiest moments of my life I've spent with you. You brought so much to this family."

"But Veezara, Festus, and Gabriella… they're gone." _'I was supposed to protect them, and I failed.'_

"They did their duty. They knew the risks, and they embraced knowing they could die any minute."

"But I—"

"It's. Not. Your. Fault. The only one to blame is that bastard I once called a husband."

Alana lowered her head, and she didn't say another word. Her inner demons yearned to break free and consume her, clawing at her very insides and feasting on the grief of losing Gabriella. _"It's your fault. You were the one they looked to, and you were nowhere to be seen when they needed you most."_

' _That's not true! I came as soon as I could!'_

" _But it wasn't quick enough, was it? They all blame you for not being there. Not even in death will they forgive you."_

' _Shut up, shut up!'_ She clutched her head and shook it with her eyes squeezed shut, unable to hear her mistress's cry of concern. _'Get out of my head!'_

" _Pitiful child. When will you recognize it? We are always here, always watching."_

Alana's eyes snapped open, and she froze at the horrific sight in front of her. Red mist was swirling around her, and she could hear cruel distorted laughter no matter where her head turned. Astrid was gone, and her heart thumped painfully in her chest.

" _Your body belongs to us. Everything is ours. Your blood, your flesh, and even your rage. Everything is ours!"_ The demonic voice cackled, and Alana felt her cursed arm throb harder and harder.

"ENOUGH!" She wanted it to stop. But the laughter grew louder and louder, echoing inside her head.

" _Yes! Give into it! Let your fear consume you!"_

The mist started to split into several shapes, and Alana was frozen in place. She was unable to move as she recognized each and every single one of them as the demons of her sins.

She recognized the demonic form of Mehrunes Dagon, his jagged teeth in a twisted grin.

The feminine form of Vaermina, her lips curled up in a sadistic smirk as she relished in the blonde's pain and anguish.

The demon who raped her into undeath and made her feel truly helpless, Molag Bal.

They continued to spin around her, their bodies growing larger and larger in front of her as if to make her feel even more worthless and powerless. Their laughter was growing louder and louder as they feasted on her fear like wolves did on their prey.

And the final shape appeared in front of her. She had long black hair that fell down her back, and she was mostly human in appearance apart from the eight spider legs that grew from her body.

Alana's fear was replaced by a new emotion, and her world started to turn red as she seethed in fury. "Mephala…!" Her golden eyes were now nothing more than molten pits of the purest of rage.

Mephala merely smirked at her and licked her lips. _"I told you, didn't I? You are mine, Alana. You are my tainted little toy."_

Alana drew her sword and charged with a desperate scream of fury to make the nightmares stop. However, before she could strike the Daedric Prince down with a fatal blow, the vision ended and her sword hit nothing by the ground. Her breaths came out fast and furious and she fell to her knees, using her zweilhander for support.

"How long...? How long must I be tormented for my sins?" Tears dripped down her cheeks, and she felt Astrid's warm hands on her again. _'Oh gods, what's happening to me? Am I losing myself?'_

"What happened to you?" Astrid asked worriedly. "You had this strange look in your eyes. It was as if you weren't really here."

"I…I don't know. I saw them…all of them." Gods, Astrid's hands felt as comforting as a mother's right now. "They were right; I'll never be free from them, will I?"

"No, you will be," Astrid urged. "You will be free of them one day, but you need to push towards it. You can't fight them alone. You need help."

"The only help I should be getting is if you're helping put me in the damn ground."

"In that case…I'll help you out quite a bit," a cold male voice sneered.

Alana looked up, and approaching them was a Dunmer man with long flowing silver hair and bright eyes that gleamed with power and malice. He was clad in a dark black coat and in his hand was a large odachi.

"Who are you?" Alana demanded, rising to her feet and pushing Astrid off of her. Her zweilhander was in hand once again, and she motioned for Astrid to leave her. "Answer me!"

"I am your despair."

The silver-haired swordsman leapt at her with unnatural speed, and Alana was barely able to parry the blow in time. Sparks flew out from the two sharp pieces of steel colliding, and the blonde was surprised by how much power her adversary had behind his blows.

' _He's strong! Unbelievably strong!'_ Alana gritted her teeth and pushed back, using her raw physical power to push him back. The Dunmer grinned at her, his eyes almost cat-like. His skin was unbelievably pale for a Dark Elf, and if it weren't for the fact that his pointed ears came out of his silver mane, he could've passed for a Breton.

He jumped back when Alana went to swing down and cut him in half. The tip of his sword nicked her cheek, and a harsh stinging sensation shot through her face. _'Damn!'_

She growled and tried to land another heavy hit, but he was too fast and he dodged it effortlessly. Blood began to trickle down the side of her face, and she hissed. "Damn you, stay still!"

Her adversary merely smirked and evaded three powerful swings with uncanny grace, his twisted smile never leaving his lips. All the meanwhile, Alana's frustration grew and grew as she failed to land a blow on her enemy. He was fast, too fast to be any normal elf.

"You…you're not mortal, are you?" she growled. Her sword collided with his odachi again, and the two became locked in a power struggle. "What are you!?"

"I am the one winged angel who will grant you the sweet embrace of death," he replied. There was neither malice nor glee in his tone, just calm certainty as if it was his duty to kill her. "Boethiah will be pleased when I present your body to her."

Alana started to seethe. Boethiah finally decided to strike out with her pawn. "If anyone here is going to die, it's going to be you!"

With a loud yell, she parried four quick strikes and drove her knee right into the elf's stomach. He doubled over, and Alana raised her blade to cut him into pieces when he rolled out of the way. His recovery time was also remarkably fast like hers, and it made her realize that this man, whoever he was, was possibly her fiercest opponent to date.

Her zweilhander, while having good reach and being a perfect weapon to defend and attack, was simply unable to match the Dunmer's odachi in terms of speed. It was too heavy to be used effectively, and Alana found herself on the defensive again. She spun her sword to block a Thunderbolt spell, and she felt a burning hot pain pierce her in the shoulder.

Her enemy had stabbed her, and his eyes glowed with power. "Is this the pain you felt, knowing you are nothing more than a puppet of the Daedra? Let me remind you. This time you won't forget."

He removed his sword, and before she could recover, his sword punctured through her thigh. The razor sharp steel easily tore through the flesh, and the blonde fell to one knee. Wet blood gushed out of the gaping wound, and she raised her blade again to deflect a heavy strike aimed at her throat. She bashed her zweilhander against the thinner blade, but in her wounded state, she wasn't able to prevent a flurry of quick stabs to her arms and stomach.

Alana fell hard after she was kicked hard in the chest, her armor taking most of the punishment with an agonized scream. Her sword had fallen out of her hands, and with blood pouring from various wounds, she weakly grabbed onto Requiem's handle, using it to prop herself up.

Her enemy dragged his sword against the ground with a smirk. "How does it feel, knowing that you will die being unable to protect those you care about? Being the plaything of the Daedra for all eternity?"

Somehow, his words managed to give her battered and beaten body strength. Her eyes began to glow hot with fury, and a dangerous red aura began to cloak her, starting from her armor. Her vision grew hazy with rage, and the last thing she remembered was everything turning the sick crimson of blood.

"ENOUGH!"

* * *

Astrid had been watching the fight, and her worry for Alana was growing by the second. She was actually losing this fight against the Champion of Boethiah, being no match for his speed and deadly precision.

Nazir and Babette returned, their weapons ready to leap in and defend their Listener, but Astrid shook her head. "Stay back! You'll only get yourselves killed!"

"You intend to let her fight this off by herself!?" Babette demanded. "She's going to get killed!"

Indeed, the blonde warrior was in a bad way. Her enemy had landed several hits on her, and Alana was bleeding from several wounds. The damn Dunmer was now taunting her, his sword ready to decapitate her, and then she spotted it.

A dangerous aura emanating from Alana's armor began to circle her, and Astrid was lost in a mixture of fascination and fear as the blonde let out a demonic scream. _'She's…she's given in. The armor really is cursed.'_

The armor began to cover her entire body from head to toe, and all Astrid could see of the person she loved was the golden hate filled glare that came out from the eye sockets.

She began to swing her sword in powerful arcs, now pushing the Dunmer onto the defensive. Astrid felt her stomach churn at the sound of bones shattering; Alana's left arm was bent out of place with the amount of force she swung her blade, and yet the armor merely snapped it back in for her.

She knew that she was someone who grew deadlier and deadlier the angrier they got; Astrid had seen how furious Alana was during the Penitus Oculatus's raid on the Sanctuary.

But now, Astrid was actually terrified of her and the power she wielded. Never had she seen Alana this rage-driven, this savage, in battle.

Another sickening crack reached her ears, and she tried not to cringe. Alana's right arm was the next to break from a vengeful swing, and yet again the cursed armor cracked it back into place. In this state, she truly did not feel any pain.

Even as Boethiah's Champion stabbed her through the stomach with a quick jab, she didn't stop. Alana merely grabbed the blade with her hand and tore it out of her by force, using raw strength to fling her enemy to the ground.

Again, her bones broke under the stress.

She leapt forward and swung her zweilhander in an arc as the Dunmer got to his feet, and he let out an agonized scream and tumbled to the ground again, his odachi falling from his grasp. His legs had been severed at the thighs and were on the ground several feet away.

Blood spurted out of the stumps, and before he could even scream or clutch them, Alana was on him with a scream of fury. She slammed her sword down through his skull to the chin.

Astrid heard Babette retch, and Nazir averted his eyes. Feeling as though she herself might vomit from such a gruesome display, she watched in horror as Alana raised her blade up and cleaved her dead enemy in two. Blood and brain matter splashed onto her armor, and the armor started to deactivate, retracting back into the chest piece. "By Sithis…"

"What…what _happened_ to you?"

Astrid had seen the part of Alana that she tried so desperately to hide. She had just seen the demons inside her.

And she was frightened by them.

 _ **A/N: Mmmmm…yes… *cackles***_

 _ **This was, by far, the most enjoyable chapter to write to date. Bloody, with inner demons surfacing, and the Berserker armor is used? Fuck yeah!**_

 _ **Next is our grand finale. It's been a blast guys!**_

 _ **C. Strife #5371**_


	16. Nightmare (Finale)

_**A/N: Well…here it is. The grand finale to my Skyrim story. It's been so much fun writing, guys. It really has.**_

 _ **Warning for character death in this last chapter. You'll either hate me…or you'll hate me *evil laugh***_

 **Shadows of the Heart**

 _Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood._

 ***Nightmare (Finale)***

Alana blinked her eyes a few times, and she felt the most agonizing pain she had ever felt in her life. Waves of it rolled through her body, and with a howl of agony she collapsed on all fours. "AHHHHHH!"

With her cursed armor no longer sealing her nervous system off, she could feel every broken bone and every stab wound. And it _hurt_. The injuries she picked up during the bloody civil war were nothing compared to what she felt now; blood poured out of her wounds, and her vision swam as her own body felt like it was tearing itself apart.

Her scream pierced the sky, perhaps reaching the planes of Aetherius and Oblivion themselves. Oh how she wanted to succumb to death, just to be free from the agony that coursed through her body with every breath of air she took. Her golden eyes were filled with unshed tears, and she soon found herself fighting to stay conscious.

" _What's the matter, girl?"_ the entity inside her armor asked mockingly. _"I thought you wanted power. Does it hurt?"_

Alana was in too much pain to answer the foul demon. Tears started to drip down her pale cheeks, and she slowly managed to stagger to her feet. She leaned against her zweilhander for support, the wide blade of Requiem providing almost impossible to wield now. Both of her arms had been completely shattered by the armor, and she could feel the blood dripping from her.

Somehow, by a miracle of the gods, her legs weren't broken during the battle against Boethiah's champion. She saw the bisected corpse of her enemy, and she felt bile rise from her stomach to her throat. _'What…what did I do!? Did I do this!?'_

' _I don't remember anything! Oh gods, what have I become!?'_ Her throat convulsed, and the horrifyingly gruesome sight combined with the sickening realization that she was the monster responsible nearly made her vomit. She coughed, and spittle dripped from her lips. Alana was no stranger to seeing corpses, but the sheer brutality of how she killed her enemy was enough to make even a battle hardened soldier's stomach churn.

She tripped and fell, and another wail of pain left her throat as she landed heavily on her broken arms. Jolts of pain shot through her body, and she began to feel awfully dizzy from her wounds. Her vampirism tried to heal her as quickly as it could, but every breath and heartbeat hurt. She tried to focus her healing on her arms, but it seemed as though she had nothing left in her magicka reserves; her powers had been completely sapped after she activated her cursed armor. _'My magic! It's gone!'_

Alana lifted her head, and she realized that Astrid hadn't moved a muscle. Her mistress was staring blankly, as if she was paralyzed by fear. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, and Alana stumbled over to her with a pained rasp. "A-astrid?"

Her knees wobbled and started to buckle, and the ground rose up to meet her as she succumbed to blood loss.

* * *

Astrid blinked and ran forward in an attempt to catch the severely wounded Dragonborn before she fell facefirst onto the bloodstained ground. Blood was gushing out of her wounds like a never ceasing red river of death, and the fact that the woman was still alive was a miracle of the gods. So much of her was stained crimson; it was hard to tell what was her blood and what wasn't.

Astrid touched her face, and Alana let out a pained whimper. Her body was broken in so many ways, but it wasn't the physical abuse that had her shaken. It was the way her mental state completely shattered. She had seen her give into her inner demons and become the bloodthirsty demonic monster of her worst nightmares. She knew Alana was troubled and being tormented by the ghosts of her sins, but she had never seen it this bad.

Astrid carefully picked her up, motioning for Nazir to grab her sword. "We need to get her out of here, and fast. Otherwise, she's not going to make it. Babette, do you have a potion or two? She's going to need it."

"I do." Babette fished around in her satchel and pulled out a small red bottle of regeneration potion. "This should help speed up her healing." Her hands fumbled with the cap, and once it was off she carefully let a few drops trickle into Alana's unconscious mouth.

The blonde immediately started to cough, red splatters of blood landing on Astrid's chest. She was suffering from internal bleeding, too. No surprise, considering just how much damage she took during her fight.

"No…not her, too." Babette's eyes started to well up with tears, and she shook her head. "We've lost enough. We're not losing her!"

"She won't die." Nazir had picked up her sword, grimacing under its massive weight. "She's far too strong to succumb to this. She was chosen to bear the blood of Akatosh for a reason; she's a fighter. The girl's fought in a war and against dragons, for Sithis' sake."

"But dragons don't break your mental state," Babette countered. "Nor do they make you immune to feeling your body tear itself apart."

"No," Nazir grudgingly admitted. "They do not. But if there's one thing we know about Alana, it's that she's far too stubborn to just keel over and die. She's powerful, stronger than all of us put together judging by the way she carries this damn lump of metal she calls a sword. I guarantee you she'll make it."

Astrid brushed some of Alana's bloodstained hair out of her face, holding her body tight against her. _'You see yourself as a curse, a blight on this world for what you've done. But you've brought joy to all of us. You saved us when we needed it. And I love you.'_ she kissed her forehead, ignoring the salty tang of blood, and her gaze hardened.

"Make a cot for her," she ordered. "Nazir, you and I can carry her until we make it to Dawnstar."

"What about Gabriella?" the Redguard asked. "Shouldn't we bury her? Or at least give her a proper funeral?"

Astrid glanced over at their dead friend and fellow sister of darkness, and she sighed. Alana would've stayed behind to give her the funeral she deserved, having an affair with Arnbjorn or not. Gabriella was still one of their very best, and she served the Brotherhood honorably. _'Alana would want us to. But it wouldn't be out of compassion for her, would it? It would be because she doesn't care about herself. Dammit. Even unconscious, you still find a way to show how much you don't care for your own wellbeing. Damn you.'_

But Alana was in critical condition. If they didn't get to Dawnstar in the next hour or two, she would join Gabriella in death. Except she wouldn't have the pleasure of being reborn in the Void and serving Sithis; she'd be tortured in Oblivion, most likely in the Spiral Skein being Mephala's toy, and she'd be trapped in her web.

Astrid's gaze hardened, and she glanced over at Babette. "Cast a spell to start her pyre. It's the least we could do. We don't have enough time to do anything else." _'I'm sorry, Gabriella. But we can't do anything more. Not without risking losing her.'_

The immortal ten year old cast a quick fire spell to ignite Gabriella's body, and Nazir helped lay Alana down onto one of the bedrolls before picking one end up. "Let's move."

Astrid picked the other end up, and her heart twisted when she saw Alana shake. Even unconscious, she could never find peace from the nightmares of her sins. They always plagued her, no matter what; they would flock to her like a moth does to a candle, buzzing hungrily around and feasting on her fear and anger.

After Babette set Gabriella's body ablaze, she ran up to join them, and they set off.

Not soon after they started carrying her, the weather changed drastically. A bitter wind coming down from the jagged peaks of the Pale started to howl down, bringing a deadly blizzard along with it. Astrid scowled, her blood beginning to boil. It was as if the gods themselves were trying to assist the daedra in taking Alana's life. _'Dammit! A blizzard is the last thing we need!'_

The snow started to fall thick and heavy, covering the region in a freezing white blanket of death. Visibility was reduced to little more than a few meters, and the blonde strained her eyes to see further ahead of them. _'We can barely see where we're going. At this rate…'_

She looked at the unconscious vampire, and she felt a sickening feeling of dread. Alana's wounds had yet to close up and streams of her blood were dripping from her body, leaving deathly red trails in the white snow. _'No, I'm not losing you, dammit. We'll make it.'_

She noticed her right arm twitching, and for a moment, she swore she saw it change into some kind of horrifying monstrosity. Three fingers that formed a sort of jagged claw, with thick pulsing red veins running through its length. Alana hacked up more blood, and when Astrid blinked it was back to normal. _'What the hell is going on? Why did her arm mutate like that? She shouldn't have a transformation approaching.'_

' _Unless…that's not vampiric in origin. It seems cursed. Did Mephala do this?'_

They didn't get much further before they heard the sound of galloping hooves. Astrid turned to look over her shoulder, and her chest felt infinitely lighter when she saw her faithful steed approach. "Shadowmere? How did you get here?"

The dark steed trotted next to them, his glowing red eyes locking onto the fallen blonde warrior. He lowered his head and nuzzled her neck, hoping to rouse her, but Astrid shook her head. "I'm sorry. She's lucky to even been alive right now."

Shadowmere let out a quiet neigh, gently blowing into Alana's ear. The vampire stirred, whimpering again. "N-no…please…" Her head began to thrash back and forth, and her icy hands gripped the edge of the bedroll in a panic. She coughed, more blood flowing from her lips, and the air around them became heavy and filled with dread.

A sick laughter echoed around them, and a swirling red shape appeared. She was almost beautiful, with her raven black hair and bright eyes. However, she had eight legs of a spider jutting out from her body, and a cruel smirk graced her lips. It was Mephala, the sick bitch who thoroughly loved toying with Alana.

Her eyes gleamed when she saw the unconscious blonde, and her smile was sickening to look at. It was akin to a predatory wolf staring down a rabbit, and her voice was a seductive purr. _"Aw, what do we have here? The supposed 'savior' is now nothing more than a beaten little doll. How terribly unfortunate; I was looking forward to her being awake while I broke her into my personal toy."_

Astrid and Nazir shared a look, and they both placed their Listener over Shadowmere's back; he was easily strong enough to carry her, and he'd reach Serana before they would.

The two members of the Brotherhood drew their weapons, taking up defensive positions around the steed as several Oblivion portals opened up. Several spider Daedra appeared, shrieking horribly, and the blonde grinned. It had been awhile since she really got to burn off some steam in a proper fight. The Blade of Woe was in her hands, its twisted blade eager to taste the blood of her enemies.

"You'll have to get through us, first," Nazir said with a snarl, his scimitar in hand. "One final match, Astrid. Place your bets!"

"Haha. Gladly." The blonde grinned and gave a nod to Shadowmere. "Go!"

The dark steed took off with a neigh, and Mephala screamed in frustration. _"No! Don't let the whore escape! Kill them!"_

The spider Daedra leapt with high pitched shrieks, and the three members of the Dark Brotherhood rose to meet them.

Astrid ducked underneath one of the Daedra's pinchers. Sticky green venom coated it, and another one was blocked by the powerful ebony of her dagger. A sword would've been more ideal for blocking and parrying, being heavier and sturdier. However, it was all she had on her, and the Blade of Woe had endured similar punishment for centuries.

It would do the job for now.

Astrid spun the deadly weapon in her hands, gripping it backwards and slashing. The blade cut through the Daedra's chest, and blood gushed out of the open wound. It fell back with a scream, and she finished it off with a quick stab in the place where its heart would be.

The creature shuddered and died, and she looked over her shoulder to see Nazir flexing his shoulders after he finished off another. His scimitar had streaks of blood along its length, dripping onto the ground, and the Redguard gave a lazy grin her way. "So, how many does that make for you, mistress?"

"One," she replied. She easily avoided the clumsy attack of another and cut along the back of its neck. "Make that two."

Her blood was pumping through her veins with exhilaration and she remembered why she sought out the Dark Brotherhood when she was but a little girl, wandering the streets of Riften after murdering her uncle. For her, killing was her drug. It was intoxicating, the way her hands trembled with adrenaline after she stood over her dead enemy.

She felt something hit her hard in the back, and she groaned in pain as she fell over. She rolled over to avoid another spider Daedra. There were just so damned many of the bastards; everywhere she looked, she saw limbs of Mephala's servants, and she got to her feet before her enemy could stab her in the stomach.

Astrid threw her dagger, and it sank right between its eyes. It was killed immediately, and Astrid plucked her blade from its corpse. "Up to three, Nazir. You're falling behind!"

The Redguard merely growled in response and cleaved one of his enemies in two. Blood and limbs flew through the air, and he chuckled darkly. "You were saying?"

"Ahem!" A soft cough got their attention, and they glanced over to see Babette standing smugly without a scratch on her. Her small pale hands were alive with fiery magic, and around her were the charred remains of seven Daedra. "I think you'll find that _I'm_ in the lead."

"Oh, it is on." Astrid grinned and leapt towards her fourth Daedra. However, before she could cut it down, Nazir beat her too it; his scimitar slammed through its skull, and he pushed the corpse away from him with a scoff.

"Too slow, Astrid," he taunted teasingly. He rubbed his shoulder with a wince, looking around at the carnage they caused fighting off the horde of spider Daedra Mephala sent after them. Over a dozen corpses were on the ground, slowly fading away back to Mephala's realm of Oblivion.

"How's everyone feeling?" Astrid asked, looking at the two. Nazir had a cut on his cheek and a few tears in his clothes, but he was otherwise fine. Babette didn't have a scratch on her as far as Astrid could tell, and she herself only had the bruise on her back to worry about.

"Well, I've certainly felt better," Nazir wheezed. He sheathed his sword and panted heavily, wiping sweat from his forehead. "It's been a long time since I had to use my sword that much in a fight. I'd almost forgotten what it was like."

"Same," Astrid agreed. She ran a hand over the Blade of Woe, shaking the blood off of it, and sheathed the deadly blade. Her blood pumped through her veins, and she took a few breaths to let her adrenaline rush wear off. Her hands still trembled from the thrills of battle, and she slid them into the pockets of her tight leather armor.

Shadowmere was long gone, and he was probably already nearly to the Dawnstar Sanctuary already. They had been fighting for quite awhile, and in that time her steed had covered a lot of ground. _'We're almost there. Hopefully Alana will have recovered somewhat before we get there.'_

"Catch your breath while you can. We still have a long way to go."

"Yes, mistress."

* * *

Serana heard the galloping of hooves behind her, and the vampire turned to see Shadowmere approaching her. A black shape was draped over his body, and Serana's heightened senses picked up the smell of blood. It was powerful, and the glint of the pale sun reflecting off of a wide piece of metal meant it could only be one person. "No…Alana!" _'Dammit, no! Don't you dare die on me!'_

Shadowmere trotted to a stop, and he shook his head with a snort as Serana went to investigate the blonde's form. She was thankfully still breathing and her wounds were slowly healing thanks to her vampirism, but she had clearly lost a lot of blood. She was still close to the verge of death, and Serana climbed onto Shadowmere's back.

"Where's Astrid?" she asked. Shadowmere motioned behind him with his tail, flicking it. Their mistress was still alive and well. Good. Alana didn't need any more suffering today. _'Who did this to her? Both of her arms look like they've been shattered.'_

She didn't know what could've caused such horrific injuries, and she didn't want to stay around to find out.

"Come on!" she urged him frantically, wanting to reach Dawnstar. She hovered over Alana's body, reaching into her pocket and finding a potion of healing for her. She pulled off the top and quickly poured it down Alana's throat in an attempt to help heal her more.

The blonde vampire stirred and coughed violently, her eyes briefly flickering open. "S-serana…?"

Serana let out a sigh of relief that her potion worked somewhat. She leaned down and gave her a kiss on her forehead, ruffling her bloodstained locks. "Don't worry. You're going to be okay."

"W-where's…Astrid?" she rasped, eyes alight with pain.

"She's behind us," Serana replied. "By the gods, girl, what the hell happened to you? You look like a dragon ate you and spat you out." _'These wounds are awful. Punctures all over her body, like she was stabbed a bunch of times. Who or what did this? How is she even alive?'_

"I-if only that were true." Alana laughed quietly, wincing. "Damn, this hurts…"

Serana sighed and shook her head, holding the wounded Dragonborn close to her. "Don't worry; we should make it to Dawnstar without much of a prob—"

A glob of sticky fluid soared over her head, and she looked to see a large group of spider Daedra blocking the path ahead. "Dammit!" _'Just what we needed. Mephala chooses now to attack, when Alana is at her weakest and most vulnerable! The little bitch!'_

"Sorry Alana, but the ride's over! Shadowmere, let us down and get Astrid here!" she ordered. The dark steed ran off once he let the two on the ground, and Serana rested Alana against the smooth stony surface of a rock.

Alana's head slumped, and Serana gave her a sad smile and ruffled her lover's hair before she stood up to face their enemy.

She didn't notice Alana weakly raise an arm out as she left, as if to stop her.

Serana stared down her enemies, a heavy realization settling in the very pit of her stomach. Shadowmere wouldn't be able to get Astrid here quick enough, and she sighed as she looked at the two dozen spider Daedra. "Well, what do you know? The price of trying to free her from a nightmare is steep." _'It's just me, isn't it? Well, if I die here…so be it. But I'm not going down without a fight.'_

She slowly drew the Ebony Sword she had forged earlier in the week, its blade glowing with a powerful soul trap enchantment. She held it tight, glancing over to where Alana lay. "Embrace who you are. And no matter what…protect those you hold dear."

Her gaze hardened, and she charged them. "Come and get it!"

Her blade cut through the first like butter, blood and guts splattering on her armor. She pulled it out of its body, blocking the razor sharp pinchers from the second. Serana met its hateful gaze evenly, and she pushed back with a grunt. A third and fourth leapt at her, and the vampire jumped back.

The Daedra collided and fell in a tangled heap of limbs, and Serana seized her advantage. Her sword cut through their bodies easily, and she gagged at the sheer wave of stench that rose from the corpses. _'Ugh! This is awful!'_

She removed her sword and rolled to the side to avoid a splatter of venomous spit. However, her momentum carried her right into the path of another Daedra. One pincher pierced her armor and broke through the flesh underneath.

She yelped in pain and furiously hacked away at it, severing the limb. The Daedra screamed in pain, and Serana's sword lopped its head clean off. She could feel her vampire blood fighting against the powerful poison and Serana grimaced as she pulled it out of her side, leaving a bloody hole in its wake. _'Dammit. That's going to sting for awhile.'_

She avoided the attack of another one and sent it back to Oblivion a powerful fireball spell. She tried to ignore the ear-piercing screams it let out as it burned alive, and the smell of cooked meat made her stomach churn.

Serana spun around in the air, and her blade found the throat of another of Mephala's cursed servants. The air around her grew thick and heavy with Mephala's presence, and she knew that the Lady of Whispers was watching. _'Dammit. That bitch is here. I know it.'_

However, the Webspinner didn't interfere; it was as if she was for once content to sit back and watch the carnage with a smile on her lips.

Serana blasted a Daedra with a thunderbolt, the powerful electricity coursing through its body. It screamed in pain, and she finished it off with a quick stab in the chest.

She looked around, and felt a searching pain in her back and stomach. Serana gasped in pain, and her golden eyes flickered down to the deadly pincher protruding from her body. Her blood coated it, and her sword started to slip from her grasp.

Serana still had her magic, and she scorched it with a furious barrage of fire. However, the damage had been done. Before she could take her sword in hand, a second and third Daedra stabbed her with their long pinchers, venom flooding her body.

Serana stumbled, her vision swimming, and she soon found herself on her back looking at the hateful gaze of one of her enemies. Her vision was fading, and she felt a burning pain near her neck before the clouds started to cover the sky.

* * *

Alana regained consciousness, and she had just barely enough strength to crawl. Her arms ached and throbbed with each movement and rain pelted her, but she had to move. The sounds of battle had gone horrifyingly quiet, and a few seconds later she reached the bloodstained field.

Her golden gaze looked over at all of the dead Daedra on the ground, and her eyes widened when she saw a human form lying amongst them. "N-no…no, please…"

Alana slowly crawled over to where Serana's motionless form laid, her eyes wide with horror glistening with unshed tears. "S-serana…?" _'No…no, no, no…please, don't be dead!'_

The rain had washed a lot of blood down Serana's face, and even though she was gravely wounded, she still had enough strength to speak. "For the…both of us…"

"Both…of us?" Alana asked quietly.

Serana nodded, reaching a trembling arm and cupping Alana's cheek. "That's right. You're gonna…"

"You're gonna…" Alana repeated.

Serana pulled Alana's head down to her chest, ruffling her hair. "Live. For the sake of those you love…"

"Be…free…" The last breath left her body, shuddering before becoming completely still, and Alana looked at the blood on her hands.

The realization started to slowly sink in, and tears started to drip down her cheeks. "No…Serana, please, wake up…please…"

She clasped her head with a scream, letting out a wail of anguish that pierced the heavens. "NO! SERANA!" She collapsed on Serana's chest and sobbed, unable to believe that the woman who stood by her no matter what and loved her had just given her life for her.

" _Hahaha…ahahaha…."_ A sick voice laughed behind her, and she knew from the mere presence that it was Mephala. _"I win, Alana."_

Alana felt her arm throb, and it fully transformed. Overcome with grief, she raised Requiem with her cursed arm and screamed as she charged the Daedric Prince.

However, her heavy blade hit nothing but air, and she collapsed in a heap. Mephala faded away with a sick laugh, and Alana wanted nothing more than to join Serana.

Never again would she feel her warm embrace or her lips on hers. Never would she hear her laughter or her calming voice. Never would she see her golden eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Serana was gone, taken from her.

Alana looked at her arm, now fully transformed into the red monstrosity that haunted her so much recently.

She was living a nightmare that she could never wake up from. Mephala had won.

Alana clutched Serana's body and cried. She cried like she had never cried before. She cried until there were simply no more tears left to be shed.

This was her nightmare.

* * *

Alana didn't know how many hours passed before she was found by Astrid and the rest of Dark Brotherhood. All she knew was that she hadn't moved a muscle, and her golden eyes were wide with pain and horror.

She felt Astrid's hand on her shoulder, but still she didn't move. She was frozen, wanting anything for this nightmare to end. She didn't care whether a dagger plunged into her chest or one of her devils dragged her into hell.

She just wanted it to end.

Her right arm from her elbow down to the palm of her hand had turned black as if to reflect her sins, and she finally snapped out of her stupor when Nazir pulled her hands away from Serana's body. "Come. She deserves a proper burial."

Alana blinked, and she shakily rose to her feet before burying her face into Astrid's chest. She thought her eyes had long since dried up, but fresh tears were ready to be shed. They spilled from her eyes like a waterfall of despair, and she could feel nothing apart from despair and guilt.

Guilt that it had been because of her that Serana died. _'If I didn't meet her, she would still be alive. This is my fault, all of it.'_

" _That's right. Serana would still be alive, if you hadn't come her way. If you just went away, no one would miss you. You'd be doing them all a favor"_

' _Yes…I should. Astrid would still live. It would be better for her to forget me.'_

Her hands came to life with her magic, and before Astrid knew what was happening Alana cast an Invisibility spell. The blonde stumbled, her eyes frantic with worry. "Alana! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!? Don't do this!"

" _That's right, girl. You've realized what you are. You are nothing more than a nightmare that plagues the world. Disappear! They are better off without you!"_

" _Now…vanish. And never return."_

Alana couldn't even hear Astrid calling her name.

* * *

Eventually, after aimlessly wandering around the wilderness, Alana found herself at the docks in Windhelm. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and she kept her golden gaze on the ground as she trudged through the snow.

Her right arm was completely wrapped in thick bandages, hiding her condition from prying eyes, and she approached the sea captain who offered her passage to Solstheim before.

She needed to leave Skyrim. Mephala would hunt her wherever she went, and she knew she couldn't be anywhere near Astrid. She left her, for her own safety.

She just hoped that Astrid would be able to move on from her. Alana wasn't worth crying over. She was a demonic monster that plagued Skyrim and resided in the shadows of its cold heart, haunting the night of its people. She needed to just disappear.

The Nord captain looked at her, and he gulped. "Um…where do you need passage to?"

Alana reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag of gold. "Solstheim, please…"

The man nodded, and Alana pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill before she wrote a much needed letter.

 _Astrid,_

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I left the way I did. I should've said something about what I was going to do. But I've brought you enough pain._

 _I have to leave Skyrim. Permanently. I warned you once that I was a bringer of death and despair, and I was right. I brought death to your family, and I, no, we, lost Serana because of me. I'm the one responsible for this. All of it._

 _Astrid, I love you. But please, for your sake, just forget about me. I'm not worthy of your love. I'm a monster, and losing Serana made me realize it._

 _I don't deserve happiness for what I've done. Please, move on from me._

 _I'm sorry it had to be this way. I'll always remember our brief time together, and know that you'll be happier this way._

 _Love, Alana Ehler._

 _ **A/N: And that's it. Shadows of the Heart is complete! Is this the end for Alana? Oh, definitely not. There WILL be a second story for her. But for now, I'd like to take the time to thank those who have supported this story.**_

 _ **Little Miss Firebright: Thank you so much for providing such in-depth reviews!**_

 _ **SolidSnake10101: Thank you for being an awesome friend and person to bounce ideas off of!**_

 _ **The forum Writers United: Thanks for not only welcoming me into the group, but supporting me and my work. I really can't thank you enough for this.**_

 _ **Until we next meet, in Whispers of the Night, this is me saying goodbye!**_

 _ **-DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE**_


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